


Masque Of Masks

by SoHereWeAre



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: AU, Adult Content, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Angst, Arguing, Bondage, Codependency, Complete, Costume Parties & Masquerades, Cousin Incest, Cunnilingus, Cutting, Despair, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Family Drama, Forbidden Love, Incest, Jealousy, Love Triangles, Madness, Menstrual Sex, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Mildly Dubious Consent, Murder, Mystery, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Past Character Death, Please skip this fic if consensual incest bothers you, Reposted By Reader Requests, Repressed Memories, Romance, Rough Sex, Sexual Tension, Sibling Incest, Sibling Love, Sibling Rivalry, Suicide Attempt, The Author Regrets Nothing, Trauma, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-18
Updated: 2017-07-11
Packaged: 2018-11-02 01:55:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 40
Words: 86,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10934574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoHereWeAre/pseuds/SoHereWeAre
Summary: Eight years after a horrific event, the Starks find themselves still trying to move on...but everyone wears a mask.This is a main Robb/Sansa fic, with additional relationships as tagged.Warning: Contains Incest. Please heed all tags before reading. Not a fluff piece.Reposted by Request(s). I deleted it because it ran its course, but I had a few requests for a repost. Thanks!Graphics here made for me by Twisty88 (forbidden-love-is-sweet on Tumblr).Chapter 39 Gif set made by sansafeels. Thank you to these two wonderful ladies!





	1. Prologue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> <https://gayforsansastark.tumblr.com/post/169849857462/hide-and-seek-and-we-found-a-ghost-baby-a-robbsa>

Olenna Tyrell lounged back in her dining chair, twirling the parchment in her slim, aged fingers. As the matriarch she always resided at the head of the table with her family flanking the sides. Well, two members of her family anyway.

Tonight it was only her grandchildren, Margaery and Loras, who sat with her, along with their friends Renly and Jeyne. They were chatting in such an animated fashion that Olenna could swear her brain ached. Perhaps it was just the irritation of Jeyne the scatterbrain, Marg's hapless best friend, and Renly, the young man who was fucking her grandson. She never cared much about the buggery but was concerned about the fact that Loras was expected to carry on the family name, and unless he suddenly took an interest in vaginas, it was pretty much a dead hope.

"Grandmother? Aren't you going to say anything? Isn't it just the most exciting thing to happen in such a long time?"

Sweet Margarey, her chestnut-haired, light-eyed beauty. Well, sweet when she wanted to be. She also poorly concealed her ambitious and ruthless side, at least to her grandmother's knowing, seasoned eyes. It didn't matter; Olenna was proud of her strong daughter. She supposed she was proud of her handsome grandson as well. He was so much alike in looks as his sister but so unlike in personality. Soft inside and out he was; the only thing hard about him was his boyfriend's cock.

With that thought, she skimmed over Renly, and he immediately dropped his chocolate-brown eyes down to his plate of lamb. He made no effort to disguise the fact that he was intimidated by her.His bottom lip trembled a bit; Olenna surmised dryly that those lips were most likely recently put to good use, and she skitted her thoughts immediately back to her granddaughter's question.

"Well, dear, I cannot say that I wasn't caught off guard. It has been so long since any of the Stark family have attempted such a spectacle. I daresay Jon is long overdue to emerge from the walls of Winterfell Estate. That man seems to have barricaded himself in there for the past several years, only coming out for a business function or two. I swear I don't know what prompted Robb to just hand over the family business to him. Although, I have my suspicions on the matter."

Insipid Jeyne dared to find her voice. Olenna almost jumped out of her well-cushioned seat at the thin voice following her own strong one. 

"It's been eight years since...well...that terrible thing," she squeaked almost shyly. "I think that it's nice that someone from the Stark family is throwing such a grand party."

Silence.

Even Olenna paused for a moment.

"Yes, the Starks have been through so much," she mused, her tone softened. "Perhaps this will be another way of healing. Although, one wonders if that is even possible in this case."

There was a clanking of forks as everyone seemed to lose their appetites simultaneously, No one said a word.


	2. Behind Blue Eyes (Robb and Sansa)

"Please, Robb, just a little more to the left," Sansa pleaded.

"Goddamn it, Sansa, I'm _trying _!" Robb couldn't suppress his frustrations at her demands and how uncomfortable he was at the moment.__

____

"I want your hands _here_ , not there!"

____

"Like this? Is _this_ what you want?"

____

"Go down!" Her demand and want was clear as she commanded him in that imperious tone she sometimes used when she wanted something her way or no way.

____

"I'm not a contortionist for fuck's sake! You have me doing five things at once. This is -"

____

"Please, Robb, just...please. Do it for _me_ ?" Her voice changed to an almost cajoling tone.

____

"Is this fun for you? Are you enjoying yourself? Because this is not going to give you the results you want."

____

"I think you are doing quite _well_ , brother. Just hold still."

____

Sansa smiled prettily as she took the picture. Robb drew a sigh of relief and stood straight up, bending a bit at the knees until a faint popping ensued. He was only twenty-eight but felt like seventy-eight at this point. He was pretty sure Sansa was enjoying his pain a little too much, evident as he strode over to check out the fruits of his agonizing efforts and she smirked at him.

____

He peered over Sansa's shoulder. The picture actually turned out quite well; it would no doubt go to print. He has managed to keep a controlled, serious gaze into the lens, which was a partly pissed-off look resulting from the unnatural poses he was being subjected to. Still, he didn't mind it too much. Sansa only really came alive on certain occasions, and one of them was when she was bringing her creations to life. All those years of fashion school paid off. Sansa had managed, at twenty-six, to become one of the most famous suit and menswear designers in the country. The "Light Of Seven" line was selling successfully, thankfully, and Sansa would have no one other than Robb as her muse and model, although at his behest she begrudgingly allowed Gendry, Arya's boyfriend, model some of the casual line.

____

Robb still remembered the first time she ever stitched a piece of clothing. It was for one of her dolls. She was only eight and she managed to make a little dress with a lace edge. He was the first one she had shown and he was the first one to compliment her on it. He could still hear her girly squeal of delight and feel her hugging him tight at his glowing praise.

____

He wished she could be that way again. _He knows she will never be that way again_.

____

"It turned out fairly well, San." He studied it even as he was highly aware of her scent caressing his nose. "Please tell me you will use it and my pain was worth it."

____

She turned to him, nearly at eye level, her blue eyes gazing up into his own. As always, their eyes locked, reflecting back into each other, always with emotions too pure, too deep, too pained for any outsider to comprehend... if they would even be bothered to look.

____

Robb felt her touch all too sharply when she reached up to smooth away an unruly, dark auburn curl from his forehead. His breath caught as it always did when she voluntarily touched him first. Not quite the usual thing. Although she did not smile, he slowly grinned at her, the corners of his mouth wrinkling with a slight show of perfect, white teeth.

____

"You could have told me to fix my hair when I was posing," he teased.

____

She didn't break her gaze from her eyes. Her free hand skimmed from his head down to his shoulder, picking at imaginary lint along the way.

____

"This suit really compliments you; I picked the blue fabric to match your eyes. Normally blue suits are not all the rage, but I think this one will sell well."

____

She wasn't looking at the suit.

____

His smile faded and his full, wide lips slackened. Wordlessly he gently pried the camera from her other hand and set it down on the table next to them. He gingerly lifted her hand from his shoulder, pressing it to his chest. It felt so small and delicate and cold next to his warmth. Reaching for her other hand, limp when released from the camera, he brought it to his chest as well. Not once did her stare leave his face. _Not once_.

____

He wished he could warm up her skin and keep her safe forever. He has tried, tried so hard to be everything she ever needed these past eight years. Eight heartbreaking years trying to piece his family back together, hold them together. At only twenty he became mother, father, brother, provider, and protector for his younger siblings. Bran and Arya were so well adjusted and treated him more as a father than brother even now. But Sansa, who suffered more than any of them... he never knew what he truly was to her in her eyes. Sometimes he thought he knew. Most times, he didn't.

____

"We are done working today," she whispered, her small hands curling into his. "I'd like to sit in the gardens and read. I would _prefer_ for you to join me."

____

Robb's breath caught again. His heart started quickening as he lifted her hands slowly to his lips, pressing a chaste but lingering kiss to her knuckles, his eyes never leaving hers. Wordlessly he acknowledged things unspoken and smiled, allowing himself a slight nod.

____

"As you wish."

____


	3. Arya And The Finest Of Flea Bottom

Arya Stark was lounging on the couch, laptop perched on slim but well-toned thighs. Her bare feet pushed up against the coffee table which was bare. Arya hated clutter and senseless knick-knacks. The apartment was relatively sparse in its entirety, aside from a collection of weaponry, but not because she couldn't afford it. With Gendry working for Jon and side-gigging for Sansa, and her as the fencing instructor at the University, they lived quite well. Rather, it was because she found pretty, ornate objects useless and boring. She likened them to Sansa. _Pretty and useless_.

Her left hand gripped her morning coffee ad her right swiftly searched the web. It was almost a daily morning ritual, until Gendry would wake up and catch her. Most times he said nothing but Arya always felt his thoughts as if he spoke them. _Arya, just stop. Just end it. It's been so long, there is nothing new. For cripe's sake, google funny cat videos and call it a day_.

As if by telepathy, Gendry strolled out of the bedroom and into the living room. He lounged up against the entrance wall, running his hand jaggedly through his black hair and yawning. The same hand drifted down to hook his thumb in the waistband of his pajama bottoms near his hip, inadvertently exposing more of his washboard lower abs. Half awake, his piercing yet half-closed eyes rested on Arya, admiring the woman he loved. He knew she would be on the computer drinking her coffee. She looked so damn hot in his r-shirt. He was suddenly very grateful that he didn't have to go in to N. Stark Industrial steel today. If he had, he would have been tempted to call in sick to Jon. However, Jon knew he was a terrible liar so it wouldn't have been accepted anyway.

"Good morning, Glory. Mind if I share your coffee?"

Arya looked up at him, a small smile crossing her face. She took time enough to stop typing and tapped lightly on the couch next to her. Just like a lovesick puppy, Gendry bounded over to her and took up residence by her side. She inhaled his scent. He smelled like a perfect blend of the both of them. For a brief moment he buried his face into her dark-brown, shoulder-length hair, before glancing at the computer screen.

She noticed his quizzical eyebrows.

"Yeah. Jon sent the invitation via email and snail mail. I'm guessing our attendance is gonna be required, not optional. We have plenty of time to plan for it; it's not for three months yet."

"I'm guessing he wants a good turnout," surmised Gendry."We were talking about it yesterday after the meeting. He's invited all the most influential business partners and their families, even the competitors, along with family and friends. He joked that Winterfell Estate was the only place large enough in the country to accommodate everyone."

"Are you going to feel comfortable going? I'd love to go just to fuck with people, but I'll be on my best behavior for Jon's sake. If I go, you know you go with me. I won't face that shit without you, you know."

Gendry smiled and kissed her on her neck. Arya might seem tough to the world but her knew her better than that. Jon also knew better than that. Gendry had always struggled a bit with the deep bond Jon had with Arya. They were cousins but closer, like a brother and sister, and could even sometimes finish each others' sentences. His jealousy over it was what woke him up to his true feelings about he girl he first befriended under the oddest circumstances when she was thirteen and he was nineteen. Hard to believe that was only eight years ago.

He first met her at a fencing class; he was a training assistant and she was a new student. Initially he found it odd that she was a young girl wanting to fence. Maybe that was sexist of him. She wanted to act like a boy though; she dressed like one, talked like one, even learned to fight like one. It didn't stop with fencing; she warmed up to him quickly and begged him to show her weapons training; not just guns but even knives, and of course the physical training to go with it all. Any guilt he felt about helping a young teen girl become a cool badass melted away with the progressing years and the knowledge of what brought her to that point. The hardest thing during that time was keeping the additional training a secret from Robb Stark. Sure, he allowed Arya to attend fencing and self-defense classes, but Gendry knew Robb would string him up by his toes if the brother-turned -father- figure ever found out his little sister was being corrupted by an adult man.The lie was easy, though; the one-hour fencing class turned into two hours, and an extra day a week at at that.

As a poor kid growing up in Flea Bottom, the worst part of the city, he wondered how he ever became the lover of Arya Stark, a girl from the most influential and ancient families int he country. All he knew was as the years progressed, and Arya grew into maturity, his feelings changed and he went from an easy friendship to an easy friendship with love that was enjoyable on all levels imaginable. He refused to touch her, other than kissing, until her eighteenth birthday. He always knew it was a combination of trying to remain respectable and the fear of Robb cutting his balls off and shoving them up his ass just before having him arrested for screwing his underage sister. Then of course there was Jon, an overprotective shadow in her life as well, albeit less scary than Robb.

He kissed her again and cleared his throat.

"I don't mind going with you. I think it will be fun to dress you up as a medieval noblewoman and follow you around, grabbing at your skirts and calling you Milady all night." He grinned slyly.

She responded with a snort as she shut her laptop and placed it, along with her mug, on the table. She swiftly spun around to sit in his lap, straddling him with her legs tucked in a the knees. It surprised him a bit but when he felt her hardened nipples pressing into his chest, the surprise melted into excitement as he felt himself instantly harden. Her hands on his chest and her mouth on his prompted him to reach down and tug at his shirt -well, her shirt now -demanding to strip her of it was quickly as possible.

Without hesitation she reached up into the air and the shirt was disposed of and forgotten. Gendry looked down to see nothing on her but a pair of plain white cotton bikinis. Forget the wild-print silk thongs or the lacy boyshorts. White cotton bikinis were hot. Yes... yes they were. Hell, she could wear a burlap sack and he would still be driven mad by her.

Gently he slid his hand down into her panties, his fingertips seeking and finding her soft folds. They dipped further still and he heard her sigh as he found the wetness he sought.

"Does that turn you on, sweet?" He asked huskily. "Me calling you _Milady_ ?"

"Mmm... should I call you M'Lord?" The last word squeaked from her as he raised his fingers to rub her clit.

"A lowly Flea Bottom peasant is no Lord, Milady. I am your servant...you most _obedient_ servant." He bent his head to take a small, perfect nipple into his mouth, circling with his tongue before sucking there. Her voice came out as raspy music to his ears.

"Ah... Gendry Waters, you are _no_ servant...you are the finest thing to come from Flea Bottom...or anywhere. You are more to me than even a Lord. Maybe I should crown you a King-"

At that, he jumped up,grabbing her with one hand on her toned back and the other on her small bottom to secure her against him. She wrapped her legs around his waist and flung her arms around his neck, raining kisses on his lips and neck as he made his way back to the bedroom. Thankfully he was so familiar with their cozy cottage that he could successfully navigate with limited visibility and excessive excitability. She giggled as he stumbled a little while lying her on the bed. In a second his his pajama bottoms were gone and forgotten, and in another second he yanked off those (sexy) panties. He drank her in before leaning down to her to whisper in her ear.

"I am no King or Lord, Milady. I only live to serve you. And I will now serve you by making you cum as _many_ times as you will allow me, in _any_ fashion you choose."

Arya smiled and moaned at the same time as Gendry made a trail of wet kisses and tongue licks down her body. He paused for a moment to look up at her as he waited between her thighs. A wicked smile formed.

"So do I have your command to continue?"

She reached down to thread her hands in his hair and pressed him downwards.

"Oh god, yes... _yes_."

He obeyed, dipping his tongue into her, listening to her gasp.


	4. Flora, Fauna, And Sansa

Sansa loved the gardens. With the exception of her stand-alone work studio, it was the only place she felt truly at home. She had doubted Robb's vision when he had them constructed. She never thought a man could possibly have a touch for the beauty of flora and fauna, or anything nature-inspired. Of course Robb proved her wrong, and she still felt like it was as if she entered a mythical world of elegance and grace, no matter how many times she frequented it. Towering shrubbery encased it all. Unless you were twelve feet tall you could not peer over the top to see inside. The front gate of wrought iron was stoically guarded by two life-sized pewter knights with direwolves by their sides. The path from the entrance was long and winding and eventually led to the massive fountain where a fair maiden in the center held a wolf cub, her stone face blankly taking in the surroundings and looking very much like Sansa herself. To the far right, among looming weeping willows and twisting vines was an enclosed gazebo with a cushioned bench and overstuffed pillows. Sansa liked how she had the option to completely open it up during perfect weather or close the windowed sides when it rained inwards. From every stone placed to each flower, shrub, and tree planted, Robb had truly outdone himself, and it was all for her and her alone.

Really, was there anything Robb could not do? Was there anything Robb would not do for her? The gardens, the studio, were both built for her on the estate so she could have both comforts without ever having to leave home. The estate had been barren when Robb purchased it, with only the main house finished with acres and acres of land. Tucked away from city life, this was the perfect place for serenity and privacy. Sansa refused to dwell on what it had cost to add everything; the security system alone was no doubt a pretty penny. The main house was not ostentatious by a wealthy man's standards, but Robb spared no expense on here desires.

Or was it more needs that desires?

Presently Sansa perched on the fountain's ledge. A slight breeze touched her face and gently swept around silky red wisps from hair that had been hastily pulled back into a messy bun. The wind was cool; a reminder that fall was on the way. She smiled and closed her eyes. The stillness, the coolness, the tranquility relaxed her and her cool hands slackened around her poetry book.

She faintly remembers a time where she would have rolled her eyes at poetry and solitude; a time where spoiled teenager Sansa Stark was all about the latest technology, the current fashions, and how many friends she could acquire. It was all about the social life, the parties, the drama. Family was taken for granted and sometimes even ignored, with the exception of Robb. With her older brother there has always been a bond; as far back as she could remember it was always her and Robb. She loved Bran and Rickon and sometimes even possibly loved Arya, even though she found her sister to be her polar opposite in every aspect. The rivalry was ever-present with Arya; the only way it wasn't was when Arya realized Robb would always favor Sansa and she strangely accepted it. However, it really didn't matter much to Arya, as she had their cousin Jon to latch onto. Jon was more of a brother to her than Robb ever would be. Sansa never really gave a second thought to Jon. Growing up,her cousin was a minor annoyance at best, and a competitor for Robb's attentions, which made her resentful.

She clasped the book tighter in anticipation. Waiting. Waiting...

_Lord Alfred Tennyson_

It was one of her favorite poets. Robb's, too. Poetry was her escape from everyday life. Before she stopped talking to Marg and Jeyne and their circle of friends, she didn't give poetry a second thought. Robb introduced it to her as a way to take her mind off of things, to mediate and relax. She found, as most always, he was right to suggest it. The most calming times was when she had him read to her in the gardens while she drifted away to the lull of his words into dreams of clouds and sun to chase away the nightmares of blood and death. It was heaven to curl up in his arms and drift away to sweet words emitting from the voice she loved most in this world.

_Robb. Robb_. The shadows remain. The word remained, looming over her. She cannot see it but she can feel it. It dominated her, scarred her. Haunted her. Not quite the truth but closer to the truth than a falsehood. _Robb. Robb. How could anyone know, how could anyone ever know_. They were so careful, weren't they?

She was better. She _knew_ she was better. She didn't need therapy. She didn't need a prescription or drugs or alcohol or anything like that. She was strong. She had been through a hell not many people would ever see and she had overcome it. She was here, she was alive and successful. By some accounts she was beautiful and desired by the most eligible bachelors in the country.

_The would only want me up until they see...they would see...they would know_...

Sansa tried to reign in her thoughts from traveling too far. Sometimes they moved at too fast a speed to a place she did not want to be. A place where she had to run, run, run to Robb so he could hold her and chase away the dark from her head. Only he understood. Only he gave credence to her pain and only he could banish the terror. _Only Robb_.

The stillness around her was broken with the scattering of birds from the nearby trees to the sky. A few seconds later she heard the clanking of the previously locked gate as it opened and closed at a languid pace. There was virtually no sound of footsteps approaching, but she did not need to hear to know. She _felt_ it. She felt it within her _soul._

__

She leapt up, the book falling into the grass and forgotten, her long skirt whipping around her as she ran to him. It was a short run, and his arms were already outstretched to accept her. Gratefully she nuzzled into his broad chest as she felt the formidable arms surround her and hold her close. She heard his rapid heartbeat become surprisingly furious at so little exertion. She felt his hands at her back and stiffened involuntarily. He realized his faux pas and gently pushed away from her, his hands moving to cup her face up towards his. For a wild moment she thought he meant to kiss her. They were so close, all she would have to do is move forward so he could press his lips to hers...

__

He did not move or encourage her to do so. Of course. She ached.

__

"Sansa." He voice was deep, cracked, strained. As strained as the look in his intense eyes.

__

"Robb. My Robb. _Please_. Please, I need -" She broke off. What did she need? What did she want? 

__

Was it more a want or desire? Or a need?

__

Did it even matter anymore?

__

She decided no, it didn't matter, as he scooped her up into his arms and strode wordlessly towards the gardens. All that mattered was that when she buried her face into his neck, she could breathe in his scent and feel the pulse of his heart in his throat.

__


	5. The Blackfish Rumbles In (For A Visit)

Robb was making his way from the gardens back to the house when he heard it.

"Goddamn it," he muttered, pausing in his tracks. He knew he couldn't continue on his premeditated path when the rumble of the Harley became louder. Or, rather, the sound of two Harleys. Not that Robb had a problem with anyone riding a Harley, as his was parked in the garage, but he took issue with the riders this time around, only because of the inconvenience.

Jory, the Stark's loyal butler, poked his head out of the side door.

"Sir Robb -"

"Damn it, Jory, how many times do I have to tell you, it's just "Robb". And yes, please let them through the gates."

"Very well, Sir."

Robb sighed, nervously raking his fingers through his tousled, curly locks, scraping at his closely-shaved beard, and then froze.

_Oh shit_.

Well, his great-uncle was what, in his early seventies? Surely his senses were slipping by now. Jory had already disappeared back into the house, so it was too late to ask him to make his unexpected guests wait at the gate. He just wasn't focused. He had no time to collect his thoughts; he was riding the tide of an emotional high and was hoping to take care of it back in his room. Alone. Behind closed doors. Now all he could do was straighten his shirt, make sure all the buttons were fastened, and adjust himself uncomfortably in his jeans. At least the erection was wilting away at a rapid pace. Suddenly he would have given anything to be in a bathroom. Instead he walked around to the front of the house and waited in front of the looming veranda. The circle drive made it easy for cars to pull around, which Great-Uncle Brynden and Uncle Edmure were doing at a breakneck speed.

Robb couldn't help but smile as his uncles parked their bikes and dismounted. Brynden "The Blackfish" Tully was still in fine shape for his age. Even Robb at his physical best wouldn't attempt to take him on. His salt and pepper hair, more salt than pepper now, still hung in soft waves, almost to his shoulders. His short beard hid some of his wrinkles but with each passing year the worry lines in his brows seem to deepen. He still wore his black leather biker jacket with his Blackfish emblem on the back. That thing would do doubt be buried with him.

Edmure standing beside him was a contrast. His face was long and drawn and his hair was light brown, and he didn't have even half of Bryden's commanding presence. He seemed even more subdued next to his uncle, probably as a result from the latest brawl at the local biker's bar, where the Blackfish nonchalantly told his fighting opponent he would rather him cut Edmure's throat than give up his Harley in a lost bet. Sure, the fellow thought better of it and relented, but Edmure never really knew for certain if it was a true buff or his uncle really didn't give two shits about his life.

"My favorite nephew!" He bellowed and chuckled as he reached Robb and pulled him in close for a strong man-hug. Robb flinched a bit; for an older man, he was fairly strong.

"Hey Uncle. Hey Uncle Ed. What brings you by?" Robb tried to turn his face as far away as possible and stepped back as soon as he could.

"Can't two uncles stop by to see family? I swear it's been a year or two since we were out this way. I am wanting to know how my niece's kids are faring in the world."

"Faring just as well as a year or two ago, for sure," Robb countered, leaning over to shake Edmure's hand, only to jerk it back immediately and stuff it into his jeans pocket. Edmure's - and Brynden's - eyebrows shot up at that but neither said a word as they followed Robb up the stairs and into the foyer.

"The study is free, and there are cigars and plenty of booze to choose from. Go ahead and make yourselves at home. I just need...to use the bathroom really quick and then I'll join you."

Robb drew a sigh of relief when they complied.

The closest bathroom was the guest-sized half bath off to the right side of the foyer. He made his way to it, shutting the door and finally breathing out a sigh of relief. Hands on the counter, he looked into the mirror, twisting his head slowly left to right, his eyes taking careful note of his beard. Bringing his hands to his mouth, he inhaled deeply, lost for a moment, then crashing back to reality.

_Oh shit_.

A soft knock at the door startled him.

"Robb? Are our uncles here?" Sansa. Ah, his sweet Sansa. Her voice sounded thin.

Hurriedly he washed his hands, grabbing the towel before opening the door to her. His heart twisted at the sight of her standing there; her hair disheveled, mouth slightly parted, clutching her book of poems. He saw the dread in her eyes and managed a small, comforting smile.

"Yes, they are in the study right now. I have a feeling Uncle B wants to talk to me without Edmure around, although I am not sure why he brought him along. Can you do me a favor and take Uncle Ed out onto the back patio and make small talk? I hate to ask but I know you get along better with him."

To his relief she nodded her consent and leaned up to kiss him quickly on his cheek.

"No worries, big brother. I'm sure Uncle Ed has quite a few stories to share about that young wife of his and their son."

In a whisper she was gone.

Robb swallowed hard, shutting the door again and placing the towel back on the rack. Then he absent-mindedly searched under the counter and in the cabinet until he found a spare toothbrush and toothpaste. 

Regrettably, he brushed his teeth and washed his face.

******************

The study was Robb's favorite room in the house, with the exception of his own bedroom. It showcased a massive cherry oak desk with a sumptuous leather chair on the far side in the the corner and a plush couch, chair and loveseat set with an ornate coffee table in the middle. Surrounding the entire room were bookshelves running clear up to the ceiling, with ample light fixures throughout for the ease of reading.

Uncle Brynden attempted to settle comfortably on the couch after switching the lamps on and off to find the desired brightness. In other words, it was dim as hell but Robb, sitting uncomfortably in his chair, was grateful for the shade. His uncle lounged back, sprawling his legs out in front of him, digging his black biker boots into the Persian rug as he fiddled with his cigar. It was the only room in the house where anyone was allowed to smoke.

"So, son, tell me, are you and your siblings going to Jon's costume party?"

_Ok_ , Robb thought, _this was safe territory. Maybe_.

"It's a Masquerade Event. I've already RSVP'd over the phone. I think Arya is going as long as Gendry goes. Bran and Meera are expecting their baby around that time so they've already declined. I'm going because I find it interesting that Jon is being social for once in his life and I fully support him crawling out from under his rock. He's proved his worth in the business, now I guess he will be proving himself socially. I wouldn't miss it."

"And is Sansa going?" His uncle's voice was light but terse.

"I told Jon it was tentative."

Brynden leaned forward and set his stogie in the waiting ashtray.

"I think if she resists you should hogtie her and hold her hostage in the car while you drive her there. She is about the female equivalent of Jon in the social sphere."

"Sansa is social enough, " Robb declared a little too hotly. "She always attends the seasonal premiers of her clothing line, and she has given numerous interviews to the press, and has attended charity events. She's a homebody. Nothing wrong with that. Since I handed the reins of N. Stark Industrial Steel over to Jon and am only on the board now, I'm enjoying home life as well."

"I am sure you are, son." 

Robb shifted in his seat and met a very level, calculating state. He let the older man continue on with what he wanted to say, even thought he was sure of the path he was going down.

"It's none of my business, I'm sure, but how long has it been since you've had a girlfriend? The last one I can think of is that Jeyne Westerling chick, and that's been a few years."

Robb couldn't help but smile at his uncle's use of the word "chick". It seemed odd coming from a man old enough to be the chick's grandfather. He cleared his throat before delivering his zinger, hoping to nip the conversation in the bud and move on.

"Says the confirmed bachelor. Maybe I am wanting to follow in your footsteps?"

The Blackfish chuckled.

"I was never as handsome and winsome as you, kiddo. I could never do a disservice to any woman by chaining one to me."

"Then I guess I don't want to punish anyone either."

"Is Sansa dating?" 

"You will have to ask her on that one." Robb's voice tried to remain level.

"I figured you would know since if she stopped walking you'd have your head up her ass."

"Uncle-"

"I may be getting older but the insight is still sharp. I haven't been out this way much in the past couple of years, but you and Sansa have visited is at Riverrun enough for me to see what is really going on."

"And what is that?" Robb hoped his voice sounded calm, normal. He refused to be afraid of his uncle and what he might say. There was no way he suspected anything, surely...

"She is still very much clinging to you like a fucking life preserver. While she has grown into a beautiful, smart, and determined lady, much like her mother, she still uses you as a crutch. And I swear you follow her around like a damn puppy. It's fucking weird. I can't stop thinking about the goddamn rumors about the Lannisters awhile back."

Robb winced at that and let the first thing he thought slip out of his mouth, and was surprised at how quiet and firm he sounded.

"Jesus Christ, I'm not sticking my dick into my sister, if that's what you are getting at."

That was the absolute truth. The whole truth and nothing but the truth. The Lannister comment irritated Robb; he hated the Lannisters, especially that little prick Joffrey. That little weasel boy had dated Sansa for awhile and treated her like complete shit. Robb scared him off eventually but not soon enough for his taste. He would have enjoyed beating him into the ground but Sansa begged him to let it go. It was hard to do but he could never tell her no. Never. He didn't give two shits about what Cersei and Jaime did nor didn't do behind closed doors. Besides, who was he to judge?

The Blackfish took Robb's comment in like he was listening to someone talk about the weather. Then he nodded and stood up with a slight groan.

"Even if you were, I would just say there are a hell of a lot worse things in the world than a brother and sister who found love and comfort in these terrible times. Well, son, count me in for the event. Hell, you know me. I can ever resist an offer to get drunk and enjoy myself. Now, let's go rescue your sister from Edmure's monotone before she loses her mind."

Robb remained seated, stunned, and speechless as Brynden strode out the door, his boots making confident clunking noises down the hallway.


	6. The Need And Desire

_Sansa groggily fluttered her eyelids, willing them to open. Her head is screaming and for a second she feels numb, lying on her stomach, her hair feeling sticky wet on her bare skin. She doesn't know where she is and then she feels the pain of her back when she tries to move. She wants to scream. Maybe she does scream and her head hurts from it. She wills herself to get up, slowly, slowly. Her head is pounding. She feels drunk. Yes, now she knows where she is. The family's getaway cabin. End of summer getaway where she and her parents and Rickon can enjoy some weekend time away from Winterfell. That's what they said. Sansa is no fool. She's here anyway. Something is wrong with her. She's scared. She crawls out of bed and tries to stand but her legs are weak. She stumbles naked out of her room but it feels so hazy to her. "Mom", she whispers. Or screams. "Help me." Nothing. "Dad?" Nothing. It's quiet. Lady isn't barking. Down down down the hallway to her parents' room. Why can't she walk? The door is already open and she peers in. Mom and Dad, lying in bed, so still in their sleep. "Mom!" Nothing. So she stumbles over to the bed and starts to scream. Her parents weren't sleeping. They lay with their eyes open, staring at the ceiling, as if their eyes are trying to escape the holes between both their eyes and the blood that flowed from them. Blood. Screams. Screams, Just screams. Only hers. Only hers. Only her heart beats in the walls of death. She might die too. And then there is darkness, and in the darkness she feels a hand. No! No_ -

"Sansa?"

Her eyes flutter again, this time opening to semi-darkness and Robb perched on the side of her bed, gently grasping her shoulders. She lies like a statue while staring up at him, frozen. He looks worried, his hair a bedhead mess, throat constricting, his full, sensual lips turned down in a frown, and his expressive eyebrows furrowed together. Her fear and panic faded away as her body adjusted to reality; the reality of being safe and warm and under the protection of Robb, who loomed over her seemingly larger than life.

"You shouldn't scowl, brother. It gives you wrinkles."

She watched has his frown turned into a slightly dumbfounded expression, his hands still tenderly on her shoulders.

"I heard you screaming, Sansa."

She found her agility again and sat up, modestly tucking the sheets in around her as his hands fell from her and rested in his lap.

"I guess I was," she intoned quietly."I'm sorry I scared you."

"Was it-" He cleared his throat. "Was it about -"

"Yes." She couldn't lie to him.

"Sansa-"

"I don't want to talk about. Please."

He nodded, looking into her eyes, searching. Oh god, his eyes, so much like her own in color. The brightest blue, so blue that those who didn't know him better thought he wore contacts to make them so blue. Even in the dim she could see the worry and love there and something else that struck her to her core, as it always did. It always had, even when they were younger. Even as teenagers they knew their bond went beyond brotherly and sisterly. It always would. 

"Well, then, I'll let you try to get back to sleep. If you need anything -"

Without thought, she reached for his hands. They were warm and soothing against her cold ones as she brought them to her lips, which were also cold. She heard him draw in a breath but he didn't jerk away from her lips or her gaze. She closed her eyes and murmured against his skin.

"I need _you_."

His eyes closed tight and he bowed his head, visibly swallowing, his brows furrowing again. She knew his internal struggle like the back of her hand but did nothing to absolve him of it. Something about his honorable conscience playing out over his features excited her. His love for her was so great that he still, after all these years, feared he was damaging her in some way with every intimate touch, when she was already so broken that now all he could ever do is heal her. No other man would ever come close to loving her and all her flaws the way Robb did.

She let his hands go only to move the comforter and sheets aside so he could join her. He slid off the bed for a moment as she scooted over to give him ample room, then he silently crept in next to her as she laid back against her pillow, her hair fanning out. He laid on his side and she reached for him, twining her hands in his hair to bring him in for a kiss. A gentle, soft kiss that let her enjoy the sweetness of it, instantly fading the nightmare she had just experienced. His hand brushed her cheek and smoothed out her hair as Sansa pressed him harder to her, demanding the kiss become stronger, more passionate. She wanted to lose herself in his taste, in his breath, and he was always so guarded with how he responded to her. Impatiently she raked her nails along his beard before wrapping her arms around his neck, trying with her whole body to move him on top of her. She could feel his breath quicken in her mouth and she gave out a little whimper.

He would kiss her all night if she let him. She didn't want just sweet kisses.

As if he were her puppet and she pulled the strings, he broke their kiss to move over her then delved into her neck with wet lips and tongue. She could now feel him hard against her and her arms sank down to his t-shirt, tugging on it, demanding. It was off in seconds and tossed, and when he resumed his attentions to her neck, she skimmed her fingers over his bare, broad shoulders. She loved his shoulders and back, his chest, the way the hair there felt, and she started to feel the heat inside her build as he kissed her shoulders, moving the straps of her nightgown out of the way. She shivered in pure desire. Was it the forbidden and secret side of this that made it so delightful? Or was he just that skilled of a lover? Just with his kisses she could feel herself becoming so wet. The ache was turning into a mad throbbing...

His hands burned through her gown as if he was touching her bare skin but he made no move to rid her of it. Frustrated, she pushed him up so she could shimmy out of it herself and then she threw it at him. All seriousness, Robb caught it and Sansa wasn't sure where it went after that but she also didn't care. She brought him back down to her again, guiding his head to her breasts, and at least here he did not hesitate to take each pink, taut nipple into his eager mouth and suck gently with a swirling tongue. Pleasure jolted straight down to between her legs as she moaned softly.

Back went her head, sinking into the pillows, her eyes closing to the feeling. "Ah," she whimpered, close to losing train of thought as he snaked his lips and tongue down between her breasts to her stomach, while his hand followed and stopped at the waistband of her panties. She could feel his hot breath on her mound - but not yet his lips - and she was sure he could smell her arousal, and thought for sure he would pull off the one remaining piece of clothing, but he stopped. _Why_ ?

"Do you remember the first time I touched you like this?" His voice was deep, husky, raspy. She loved hearing his voice when he was turned on, and he knew it.

"How could I forget." Another whimper escaped her.

He laid his head on her thigh. She could feel his beard lightly scratching. _Oh god_.

"It was the first time I made you cum. Under your skirt, over your panties. You were soaked through. It was like there wasn't any fabric there at all. I rubbed your clit until you came so sweetly for me...I thought if I really didn't touch your bare skin there, it was all right. But hearing you orgasm at my touch just made me want more."

She meant to say something but then she felt his hand touching her. Stroking her. Moving in circles but slowly, lazily.

_Damn him_.

She reached down to her waistband and started tugging. His hand stopped and he grasped hers, bringing it down to his lips so he could kiss her fingertips before he placed her hand on his head of auburn waves. In no time she had both hands entwined in his hair as he parted her legs wider. She stopped breathing and then gasped as she felt him move her panties to the side to expose her and she felt his wet, warm, thick tongue glide along her folds, followed by a careful sucking and biting of her clit. She felt him sensuously, slowly find a rhythm, a pattern...he knew what she responded to and respond she did, unashamedly raising her hips and tugging his hair while turning her head into the pillow. She wanted him to devour her, she wanted it to last forever, she wanted to remember what it's like to be alive and forget the nightmares and the past. And she could forget with him, only him. He took away her nightmares and replaced them with this heated desire she felt just for him. _Only him_.

"Robb, please!" She was panting, moaning in delicate tune to his increasing lips and bites, and thought she would die from the pleasure of it all when his tongue slipped inside her, imitating the motion of what his cock would not do. She rocked against him, her legs wrapping around his head, feeling his one hand still holding her panties to the side while the other stroked her clit, increasing the pace along with his tongue. She felt her peak building; it was always too soon. She wanted to last longer but her body betrays her every single time. She started riding his mouth furiously and worked just as frantically with his mouth, and relished the heat and tightness inside her as she reached her climax, her heart feeling as if it would beat out of her chest and her head swimming in dizzied pleasure.

"Oh god Robb! _Yes_ ! Ah! Ah! _Mmmm_ -" She cried out, losing herself, clutching tight to the top of his head, still wanting more as her orgasm ebbed and he slowed down to a languid pace before licking her clean of her secretions. He moved her panties back over to cover her and she sighed as he moved to take her in his arms. She moved up against him to lie her head on his chest, her fingers curling into his chest hair. She could feel his heartbeat hammering wildly, and she could feel his hardness under his lounge pants.

"I love to hear you orgasm for me. I love how you taste sweet, but even sweeter when you cum. I love knowing you want the pleasure I can give you." He kissed the top of her head.

She traced his fingers down to his waistband.

His stronger hand stayed hers.

_He would never deny her anything she could ever want in the world but this_.

"Sleep, Sansa. I'm here as long as you want me."

Her hand glided back up to his chest, his hand still over hers. She nestled in, the aftermath of her climax lulling her senses and decreasing her frustration at him. He was here, her protector, her lover. Her brother. She wanted to feel shame but couldn't. She hadn't felt shame with him since she could remember.

"I want you as long as I have breath in my body. I love you, Robb."

"I love you too, Sansa, more than you could ever imagine. Sleep."

She closed her eyes, drifting away to the sound of his heartbeat into a dreamless sleep.


	7. Sparring, Foreplay, And A Request

"Protective gear is for _pussies_. You know that."

Arya faced Gendry in her stance, her bare hands clutching her sword in attack mode. She was barefoot in a pair of yoga pants and a tank top, her hair tied back. Gendry faced her, his black-gloved hands on his much larger, weightier sword. His tightly-fitted black long-sleeved shirt unfortunately hid his well-muscled body from Arya's lust-filled eyes, and his black knee guards matched his black pants and boots. He was breaking a sweat while Arya remained cool. His heavier sword, bigger body, and added gear prompted perspiration. Not that Arya minded. It was just more fun to make comments about it.

In response, Gendry came at her full tilt and she matched his sword, the clanking and a slight huffing cutting through the stilled air.

"I am just trying to protect the hands and knees, Milady," he huffed while managing to grin, using her new nickname with relish. "I would imagine you wouldn't be too happy if they were injured."

Arya shoved at him, twirling around and meeting his sword again, a smirk on her face. She raised her thick eyebrows in mock concern.

"Then why not put a guard on that _cock_ of yours?"

Gendry grinned even wider at that.

"I'm pretty sure it's hard enough right now to withstand any steel."

She pushed back on him again. Forward again. _Clank. Clank. Clank_. She wondered if something was wrong with her; he wasn't the only one aroused. Instructing fencing classes didn't do anything for her, but put her up against Gendry in the sparring room at the University -or anywhere else, really- and she was ready to jump him before they even lifted their swords. They usually fought with medieval swords, not the ones used for classes. Today they had the place to themselves. She knew he was being cautious. One false move and she could be seriously hurt. She was almost at full force though, confident enough to know she wouldn't accidentally injure him. She hadn't so far.

The next hit brought more resistance to her. Their swords met and she leaned forward into him. She withdrew her sword from his, shoving her with her free hand. He tumbled back onto the floor with a thud, his sword crashing down next to him. He lay still, his face crunched up as if the fall affected him more than she thought it did. He'd fallen so many times before. He didn't move to get up though.

"Gendry?"

Silence.

Arya laid her sword down with grace and stepped over to him. Leaning down, hands on his chest, she stared as he popped his eyes open and grinned up at her. Then he winced, his hand reaching to his hip.

"What is it?" Arya grew concerned."What -"

Gendry clumsily reached his gloved hand deep into his left pocket, producing a small gold and silver ring that he held precariously between his thumb and index finger.

"Milady Arya Stark, will you do me the honor and marry me?"

For a second or two, for some reason, a pair of dark, serious eyes flashed in her mind, but it was gone before it was ever really there, as she stared down into pools of sparkling blue.

"Hell _yes_ !"

She squealed like a teenage girl and allowed him to lean up, throwing her arms around his neck to kiss him. He obliged, but broke away to undo his gloves, tossing them to the side before sliding the ring onto her waiting hand. He did well; Arya hated diamonds so her opted for a gold and silver band with dark blue sapphires instead.

She gazed at it. It looked so foreign but beautiful on her finger and it was a perfect fit. Arya wasn't one for jewelry, but this was exquisite. And it was from the man she loved.

"I can't wait to be able to call you my wife, Arry."

Gendry. So sweet, so to the point. Could she possibly be more happy? More turned on? _Probably not_.

Without a word, she stood up to squirm out of her yoga pants and tank top and made short work of her panties as well. Gendry, still seated, looked up at her with a mix of shock, lust, and love. He would have moved but she quickly loomed over him, straddling his lower thighs, and her hands found the button and zipper on his pants. Within seconds she freed his cock from his boxers and shoved his clothing down just far enough for her to impale herself on him. The feeling of him suddenly stuffing her completely was something she could never tire of. It felt like he reached her stomach when she fucked him this way and it was _glorious_.

She listened to his groans when she started to move and she looked down at him. His rough, calloused hands reached for her breasts with her already hard nipples waiting for his touch. He eyes were raking up and down her body as if he'd never seen her before. Up, down, she gyrated, mouth slightly open as her breath quickened. One of Gendry's hands gripped her hip as the other slid down to skim through her closely-trimmed pubic hair to find her nub.

_Damn, what his hands could do_. Even more so when it matched his dick. She rode him faster and he moved with her, but his fingers never faltered, keeping in time with her. She arched her back, her arms stretched back behind her, hands clutching at his knee gear. His heat, his proposal, his touch, his cock, his moans all drove Arya to a maddening climax, so fast and intense she let out a low, guttural moan which strangled in her throat as she threw her head back. She was incapable of words, only deep howls of pleasure.

Gendry thought she sounded like a wolf. It spurred on his own release as he came into her, thrusting his hips up sharply one more time as he did so, letting out a low moan with her name on his lips.

She felt the pulsing as she was coming down from her own high and moved forward to lean down into him for a long, slow kiss.

"Hmmm. Will you still want to fuck me like this when I'm your old married ball and chain?" She licked the corner of his mouth teasingly.

"Fuck yeah, I will," he growled. She could tell he wasn't completely spent just yet.

She smiled, reaching down to the hem of his shirt, pulling it off to expose his hairless, perfect chest to her. She ran her hands over him greedily and smirked.

"Round two, Mr. Gendry."


	8. Dr Luwin And A Conversation

"Well, this is a surprise, Robb."

"I know I've dropped by unannounced, but I'm - we're - leaving for Winterfell soon and it's been awhile since we've had a chance to talk."

The old doctor nodded from behind his desk. They were sitting in his office after hours, quietly talking, first casually and then about Sansa. Luwin only worked part-time now at his clinic. After years of juggling the hectic hospital demands, he opted for the quiet, serene surroundings of his private practice with three other physicians. He was too old for the drama of the ER.

"Breaking the patient-client privilege is something I only seem to do when you show up," he muttered, even as a small smile formed. "No doubt it's from the love I had for your father. Such a good man, loyal, and his family matters more to me than my license, apparently."

Robb leaned forward in his chair, running his fingers through his tousled hair, his knee bouncing nervously.

"Sansa is fine, Doc. I mean, she doesn't have nightmares much anymore, and she has been leaving the estate more often. I think she's at a good place. But now she's going to an event where there will be people she doesn't choose to socialize with, and I just wonder if it's a good thing for her to do. I am just worried about a setback."

Luwin peered over his glasses at the handsome Stark, noticing the wrinkles already forming around his tired eyes and mouth. It even looked like he had a touch of grey in is dark auburn locks, but maybe that was just his failing eyesight or the sunset coming through the window. Even so, he knows what Robb has been through as his sister's caregiver, shrink, and protector. The poor lad had only been twenty at the time and a full-time college student. going from the golden playboy to head of household overnight would be a strain on anyone. But Robb excelled at it as he excelled at anything he took on. He managed to finish his degree even though he had been thrust into the CEO role of N. Stark Industrial Steel, and proved his mettle in the business world, all while managing to oversee Bran and Rickon's education, deal with the death of his parents and brother, and take care of a broken, traumatized sister. So, if the kid did have any premature grey hairs or wrinkles, he damn well earned them.

"There is no reason for her not to go out." It was the most simple and honest assessment he could give him.

Robb's eyes flitted down as his leg started to bounce more rapidly. Luwin suddenly understood.

"Unless you don't want her to go out."

"I do! It's just that it's going to be a huge, drunken crowd, much more populated and rowdy than her small fashion show functions."

"Robb," the doctor tried to say softly, "you can't shield her from real life forever."

"I haven't! Didn't she go to college? Doesn't she own and operate her own business?"

"Hmph. She needs to develop social relationships. It seems she has broken away from them over the years. She's twenty-six. Young and full of life. She needs to form friendships again."

"She has -"

"You. And?"

Robb was silent. He didn't know why he came here. Maybe in the back of his mind he wanted Luwin to advise him against going to Winterfell. He thought for sure Sansa would turn Jon's invitation down, but she agreed to go if he was going, giving a vague response about how she would like to see Jon since she had only seen him a couple times, if that, since he took over the company. He tried to tell her it wasn't going to be just Jon, it was all the prominent partners and family and friends in the country that here going. The Lannisters,Tyrells, Martells, and the Baratheons ( with the exception of Joff) would be in attendance. She just shrugged her delicate shoulders and said "ok" before giving him one of her prettiest smiles and commenting on how lovely it would be to dress up as a Princess or a Queen.The last part was so completely the old Sansa that his heart constricted hard in his chest and he happily accepted that she would really be going. Now after the fact, he felt uneasy.

"Look," Luwin was stern. "I would say Sansa has healed beautifully. There is no need to worry about shattering her mental state with a damn party."

"Doc, I appreciate everything you've done for her and for us -"

"Hmph." The old doctor stood up slowly, catching some papers spilling over his desk. He was not a tidy desk keeper. "I did what I did to keep things as quiet as I could. Wouldn't have done that poor girl any good if the media got wind of it all. She had been through enough at that point and I don't regret it for a minute." 

Robb swallowed and nodded.

"Well, get on then, get to packing. Shoo. I have to lock up for the night."

"I can stay and help," Robb offered, feeling the need to do something for him.

"No need, but thanks. It's not exactly a high-risk area, you know."

Robb stood and extended his hand. Luwin bypassed it and hugged him instead. Robb embraced him back. He was a tough old bird sometimes, but he was a good man and he had helped Sansa. That's all that truly mattered to Robb.

"Have a grand time. Let her breathe. When you kids get back, we can talk then."

"Thank you."

"Hmph." Luwin gave him a light push. "Get."

 

*******************

 

Luwin sat back down behind his desk with a groan. Getting older. Hell, he should just retire and spend the rest of his life on the sands of Dorne.

Truthfully, his heart wasn't in it much anymore. After the Stark tragedy, he just wanted to retire then and there. He has seen a lot of things over his tenure but nothing impacted him more than the turn of events with his closest friends. They were family to him. The last group picture he had of them still sat on the corner of his desk; Ned and Cat smiling, standing behind all five of the Stark children as they all assumed funny poses for the camera. Their last vacation all together. Ned had given that to him and slapped him on the back, calling him his second dad.

The hardest day of his life was the last time he saw Ned, Cat, and Rickon. All three DOA. Ned and Cat each had one clean bullet hole to the head. They were found in their beds. Thankfully they did not suffer. Rickon's cause of death was a broken neck due to a fall. The boy had obviously been running from something - or someone.

Luwin squeezed his eyes shut. He titled back into his chair, tears unbidden forming in his eyes.

He remembered that early morning when Sansa also came by ambulance into the ER. He has thanked whatever god was there that he was on duty. She was coherent enough to speak but all she did was cry for her brother until she was sedated. Robb has shown up, enraged with grief and anger at them for taking her away from his sight. At first Luwin had feared stab wounds, but when they transferred her to the table, he was shocked. He discovered a puncture in her arm made by a needle where she had been apparently drugged. Fearfully he had checked for signs of sexual assault and found nothing; she was at least spared that horror. Her back was still faintly bleeding, had been bleeding, and he couldn't believe his eyes. It was then that he vowed to do whatever was in his power to keep that part out of the press. 

The lovely girl had been carved into. It was one word embedded into her white flesh, scrawled crudely in capital letters, large enough to cover her entire back and deep enough to show there, scarred forever.

_BROTHERFUCKER_


	9. The Long And Winding Road

"We're definitely getting closer. The air is changing. I can feel it." Sansa rolled down her window in the SUV and gracefully extended her arm out to catch the cooling breeze. It was early fall, only light jacket weather, but the air was always colder in Winterfell.

They were almost there. For the first time in years she would once again be in the house she used to love so much. So many fond memories, so many good times. It had been too traumatic to visit for a long time, simply because of those memories. Now, she was hopeful that she would be able to embrace the happy times and leave the nightmares for another time. Jon had invited her ,Robb, Arya, Gendry, Bran, and Meera to arrive a day in advance so they could set up lodgings in their old rooms. Although Bran and Meera weren't attending their rooms were prepped just in case. Their costumes were already waiting there. For the first time in forever she felt excitement stirring from something other than her fashion creations and her brother's touch.

She turned her head on the rest to look at Robb, her hair gently tossing around her neck.

So _handsome_. Her rock. Her brother. Father. Protector. _Lover ?_

__

Darker thoughts were starting to creep back in from nowhere, so he fixated on Robb and his driving. He meant so much more to her than any title she could think to bestow on him. He took such care with her, even in offering to drive them to Winterfell. Sansa gladly let him take the wheel; driving never interested her and as a passenger there was much more opportunity to enjoy the sights. Like the sight of _him_. He was handsome, almost breathtakingly so with his freshly trimmed beard, almost down to mere stubble, and his hair cut short in the back and sides with a mop of curls on top that was currently slicked back in waves. His buttoned white henley showed off his muscles quite nicely. Just feasting her eyes on his beauty stirred something deep inside her.

He caught her staring at him and he smiled before turning his eyes back to the road. _That smile_. Her heart fluttered and she felt it between her legs. She shouldn't be fluttering at his grin or his full, plump lips. Her heart shouldn't flutter at anything about him _at all_. Yet, it always had. When she was younger she feared she was sick, wrong, disgusting. She madly researched books and online at the public library about genetic attraction, about the possible explanations as to why she felt the way she did, why she wanted what she wanted: he brother. _Only_ her brother. She never felt attraction to anyone else and at first despaired that it was only her brother who would ever bring out those feelings in her. She tried to feel something with other boys, but none of her short-term boyfriends in school ever made her feel anything but irritation and sometimes even revulsion. Once they tried to get to second base she was done with them.

The guilt hadn't lasted too long. She found out about Robb's feelings for her after her first Homecoming dance when she was fifteen. Robb was seventeen. That night they shared their first kiss, and from then on it was all-encompassing. True, they didn't spend as much time alone together as they craved, and he never fully made love to her, but they didn't need a consummation to affirm their love or make it more real or true. They still dated others halfheartedly, knowing a love like theirs could never come to fruition. When Robb went to college it was damn near unbearable...and then the murders happened.

Mom. Dad. Rickon. Even her dog Lady wasn't spared. Only she was spared. No one knew why she escaped death. No one knew why she lived and was used as a canvas to carve upon. _No one knew why_. The thought filled her with terror. Someone would know, someone would see, someone would know she was in love with her brother. Or, at least, suspect -

That night was still such a blur. Everything was fine when she went to bed. She had gotten up in the middle of the night, thinking she heard a noise, and the only thing she remembered was someone grabbing at her mouth and a pain in her arm. She should have fought harder, been more alert, been more...anything...and maybe she could have saved her family. But she was just Sansa, not an action hero, just a weak, scared girl at barely eighteen. If Robb was there he would have save them or else nothing would have happened at all, she was sure of it. He has promised to make it up to the cabin north of Winterfell, but he had more important plans that weekend, mainly fucking his girlfriend at the time, Jeyne Westerling. Bran and Arya were spending the weekend with the Baratheon family and their friends Myrcella and Tommen.

She remembers the pain, the pain as she found her phone and called Robb. She begged him to help her. She called out to her parents and heard nothing. Rickon was nowhere to be found..she heard Robb's panicked voice over the phone...it seemed like days before she heard an ambulance. Robb had called the ambulance and stayed with her on the phone and until the darkness over took her. _Rob_... 

_Look at Robb. Look at Robb.There is still some good in the world and he is part of it. He is my world. He is love and passion and he is the only sure thing_.

Robb sensed her mood changing, dropped his smile, and inwardly cringed. His goal was to keep her in good spirits through the two hour drive to Winterfell. He was worried that she would change her mind yet at the same time he would have been relieved. They were almost there and he didn't want them greeting Jon with Sansa in full panic and cling mode. She was less apt to hide her feelings for him in that state. 

He cleared his voice before huskily quoting a favorite Percy Shelley poem while reaching his right arm out to grasp her left hand softly. It was trembling.

_See the mountains kiss high heaven_  
_And the waves clasp one another_ ;  
_No sister-flower would be forgiven_  
_If it disdained its brother_ ;  
_And the sunlight clasps the earth_ ,  
_And the moonbeams kiss the sea_ -  
_What are all these kissings worth_  
_If thou kiss not me_ ?

He stole a glance at her. Her eyes softened and a small, tender smile formed. She was so beautiful with her pale white skin glowing, her hair tossed in every direction. Robb reminded himself to keep his eyes on the road, gripping his left hand tighter on the wheel and suddenly very grateful for having an automatic. It was difficult; the road was becoming more winding and narrow. Theirs was the only vehicle on the road, but that didn't mean he could take liberties with his driving skills.

Unconciously he brought her hand to his lips to press small kisses to it, still focusing on the road. He jerked a little, the car swaying a bit, when she unbuckled her seatbelt to lean in close to him. He was about to remind her safety first when she leaned into his ear, her breath so sweet and her voice so low he almost careened off of the road.

"Thank you, Robb."

He was about to respond with a simple welcome comment when her lips grazed his earlobe. He could hear the faint wet sound as she closed her lips and flicked her tongue out around the bottom, and then proceeded to nip carefully with her teeth. His chest heaved and he felt himself growing hard in response. She left his ear and nibbled down his bearded cheek until she found his neck, the muscles already straining there in anticipation.

_Seven Hells_.

Sansa's long kisses and tongue spurred him to clutch the wheel and her hand tighter as his small kisses to her hand turned into a hungry and strained devouring as he licked and sucked each finger, then her palm, then her wrist, his eyes struggling to keep to the road. He heard her whimpers of pleasure before she drew completely away from him. He almost cursed at the loss of contact. The wind dried his wet skin instantly before she buckled back in and rolled up the window.

"It won't do us any good if you wreck," she rasped, and he could tell she was as turned on as he. "I _know_ you won't pull over. Besides, we have -what- about fifteen more minutes? You're going to need to get...that... _thing_ under control. Jon seeing a pitched tent is going to raise some questions."

He resisted pulling over. He resisted reaching over and dragging her hand to his straining cock. He wouldn't do it. He wouldn't. It was enough for him to know that the dark thoughts she was developing had left her mind. Instead, he reached his left hand out to roll down his window, leaning his head to the left as far as he could, the breeze tousling his hair. He tried to think of the worst possible thing, and found it: Theon stripped down to his zebra-striped skivvies, lip-synching to "Blurred Lines" and swinging around a neon-green boa at the last college party they attended together.

"Safe as houses," he muttered.

"Theon?"

Despite himself, Robb couldn't help but chuckle.

"Yeah. Theon."

Sansa sighed. She slumped in her seat, trying to ignore the heat in her body, the dampness between her thighs, and the electric current that still sent jolts from her wrists to her fingertips. It felt like his mouth was still there. She could still taste his skin on her lips and on the tip of her tongue. If only he would have pulled off the road. Maybe she should have asked him to.

_Maybe he should have just done it on his own_.


	10. Winterfell and A Celebration

Robb was out of the car in seconds after pulling up to the entrance of Winterfell, walking over to Sansa's side. It was an automatic reflex to open her door, but she quickly stepped out and shut it before he got to her. He realized it probably would appear odd to Jon, who was waiting for them at the gate. Always, always, they had to worry about appearances in public.

Trying to disregard Sansa as best he could, which was no easy feat, Robb strolled over to a black-clad Jon to deliver a brotherly hug with a smile. The slim yet well-built man smiled in return and huffed a greeting. Robb couldn't help but flick at Jon's curly dark hair, tied in a man-bun, raising one eyebrow in silent questioning.

"Robb, don't. It keeps the hair out of my face and I think it makes me look rather dashing, don't you think?" he joked. "It's been awhile, cousin. I'm glad you made it. And Sansa-"

Sansa stepped forward with a small smile on her face.

"Hi Jon. It looks like being at Winterfell has agreed with you."

Robb frowned a bit at that but then brushed it off. Whatever Sansa had gone through, she still had impeccable manners and knew the right things to say in any situation, even if she did seem detached about it. Still, his sharp eyes noticed Jon's eyes glancing over her approvingly, with something more than cousinly affection, if only for a few seconds. No. He was imagining things. Right?

Jon made no move to embrace Sansa, opting to smile and nod, gesturing for them to follow through the gate to the front doors and through the entrance of the main quarters. The massive structure had been rebuilt and remodeled so many times over in the last three hundred years that it was hard to tell what it could looked like in its original state. It did, however, hold the old world charm with modern amenities. The best of both worlds.

"It seems living away from Winterfell out in the boondocks has agreed with the both of you. You look great, Sansa, and...yeah, you too, Robb, I guess."

"Thanks bro."

A man of few eloquent words, Jon lead them towards the living room on the first floor. Robb heard the TV and when they walked in he noticed Arya and Gendry cuddled up on the couch, looking so happy and snug as two bugs in a rug. He liked Gendry; he was a good man to Arya and love definitely agreed with his little sister. It was good to see her well adjusted.

"Hey bro!" Arya jumped up to greet him enthusiastically, hugging him so tight he had to step back a bit before hugging him back. She let go to say hi to Sansa, but like Jon she made no move to embrace her. Robb knew they meant no harm. He looked over to Sansa, who merely smiled and walked over to sit on the couch as Gendry came forward to shake Robb's hand. 

Greetings aside, they all settled comfortably in for drinks and conversation. Robb had automatically sat down next to Sansa on the couch while maintaining several inches of discreet space between them. He wanted to hold her, have her bury her face into his shoulder and throw her leg over his lap while he held her hands, like they did many times over at home. But outside the comfort of home he was no more than just a brother. It pained him. Especially when he knew she was on edge. He wasn't sure if it was being in her childhood home with the memories, or having to be social, or being in the same room as Arya and Jon, or maybe it was all three. He knew she liked Gendry well enough. He was her other model for her fashions after all, and they had struck up a small friendship while working together. But Arya never really got along with Arya, even as children. There was a love of family there but they were never confidants. It became worse after their parents and brother were killed. At first it seemed as if they might actually bond over the tragedy but something happened and the rift had grown instead.

"So, Gendry and I visited Bran and Meera last week," Arya was saying, "And Meera is about ready to pop. I can't wait to meet my nephew. I'm finally gonna be an aunt; I always thought it would be you first, Robb, or maybe Sansa, but oh well. They still haven't picked out a name, but I think Bran wants Eddard."

Robb nodded and glanced over at Sansa. She seemed fine, but he really didn't know. Sometimes she could hold her face so still, like a mask, and he could ever decipher what she was truly thinking. He swallowed nervously.

"But...okay, I can't hold it in anymore." Arya jumped up from Gendry's arms and thrust out her hand to them, waving it excitedly. "Gendry asked me to marry him!"

Robb smiled and looked over to Jon. His cousin seemed to freeze for a moment with a strange look on his face before it disappeared and he rushed over to Arya, scooping her up in a bear hug, offering his congrats. She squealed like a little girl and laughed. Robb caught Gendry's slightly worried look over that before he smiled, too. Not really trying to read into it, he looked at Sansa, who still held the mask over her face but smiled thinly and told Arya she was happy for them. She reminded him of a Stepford wife robot. Not a very flattering impression.

It was his turn to stand up and hug Arya and shake Gendry's hand.

"Well Robb, you know, giving me your blessing to ask her made all this possible. So thanks,man, for everything." Gendry was the grinning fool.

Robb patted him on the back. It was endearing the way Gendry had asked permission from him, stumbling around with his words. He said with Eddard gone, he looked to Robb as head of the family and a father figure to Arya, and thought he should go all traditional in asking for her hand. It was another reassurance that Arya had found a good man. Robb could even overlook the fact that Gendry had been hanging around her since she was thirteen; he knew it was a respectable relationship and that was all that mattered.

He sat back down, accidentally brushing up against Sansa. Her lips pursed tightly together and she refused to look at him. Instead her eyes followed Jon as he went about opening wine and pouring glasses for everyone. She deftly took her glass with a thank you and started chugging it.

"Sips, San. You shouldn't drain the cup so soon since it's been forever since you've had any." He tried not to sound fatherly but he knew how she got when she drank.

She said nothing and drank faster, then held the glass out for Jon's second pouring.

"So when are you going to tell Bran?" He had to say something to divert attention from her.

"Oh, we did when we saw him," Arya reassured him."First words out of his mouth were about a bachelor party. I said no hookers...anything else is fair game."

They laughed, with the exception of Sansa.

The evening passed too quickly with so much to talk about. They discussed the party, who was coming, and the festivities Jon had meticulously planned. Robb was less than thrilled at some of the guests; Jeyne and Marg chieft among them. Exes made him uncomfortable, even though they remained on good terms. He didn't believe in being an asshole when a relationship wasn't working out. That and he already felt an overwhelming guilt, knowing he couldn't feel about them as he did about his own sister. He was glad Theon and his sister were coming, as well as the Tullys, Baratheons, and Martells. Well, he didn't care much for Cersei but no one really did. Joff wasn't on the guest list so Sansa could breathe easy.

Robb was aware of Sansa moving closer, and before he knew it she rested her head on his broad shoulder. His heart quickened but no one batted an eye, so he leaned into her and she nuzzled closer. He didn't know how much time had passed but when he went to move her, he realized she had passed out. She should have sipped the wine like he suggested.

"Great," he muttered.

"She's a lightweight for sure," Jon chuckled. If you want to take her up to bed, go ahead, or I can do it. I'd hate for her to have to sleep on the couch."

"I'll do it," Robb growled unexpectedly. Jon shrugged, obviously relaxed by the copious amount of wine he had consumed. Robb did not want another man holding Sansa, even if it was just Jon. 

Robb didn't hesitate to scoop her up in his arms with little effort. She was so light and frail against him as he told everyone goodnight and made his way to the staircase. He would have loved nothing better than to carry her to his room but he made a left instead of a right st the top of the steps and walked down the hallway to her room. The door was thankfully already ajar so he swept in with her and closed the door with his foot.

The room looked almost the same as when she had left it. The huge cherry oak four-poster queen-sized bed boasted of white coverlings and white, filmy draperies cascading over the canopy, flowing to the floor. The dresser, mirror, vanity set and armoire all projected serenity and warmth. The curtains on the french doors that overlooked a small balcony matched the canopy. Everything was dreamy and beautiful, just like his Sansa.

He gently laid her in bed, drawing the covers around her, and stepped back. When he did it was almost like stepping back in time. She looked so young and vulnerable, and he remembered many a night where he would sneak in after everyone was asleep just to lie with her. Sometimes the nightly visits were completely chaste, sometimes not. He recalled the first night he kissed her in this very bed, when they bound themselves to each other and sealed their fate -

There was no willpower in him as he leaned in to gently kiss her on her forehead and then brush his lips against hers. She didn't even stir so he withdrew softly and walked to the door, only to turn around for a moment to look upon her once more before shutting the door.

"Goodnight my love. Sleep well. _I love you_." It was barely a whisper. 

He knew she couldn't hear him, but he needed to say it anyway.


	11. Everyone Wears A Mask

Sansa sat at her vanity, applying the finishing touches to her makeup with only the crackle of the fireplace to keep her company. The warmth kept her from shivering even though the room had been far from cold to begin with.

She stared at reflection.

Perhaps it would have been easier to wait to dress for the party until after she was done, but it was too late now. The hanging sleeves of her medieval styled, cerulean blue gown made everything cumbersome. It was a divine dress, all silk and chiffon and flowing, with a low V-neck lined in delicate roses of the same color and fabric. It was simple but beautiful and Sansa felt like a true princess in it, even if it did show off more cleavage than she was comfortable with. Her red hair was twisted up on the sides to the top of her head, the rest flowing down her back in carefully formed waves. Tiny rose decorations were woven throughout the strands.

The only jewelry she wore was a silver-chained sapphire given to her by Robb for Christmas last year. It matched not only her dress but the silver and blue mask she fashioned herself. It was lightweight but sturdy; she tried to get used to it, and found it more liberating than oppressive. She could hide her fears behind this mask. She was determined to have fun tonight, no matter what anyone else would throw in her direction.

Guests were already arriving but Sansa didn't feel rushed. She wasn't the host after all, she was family, so if she made a later entrance it would be of no importance. Arya and Gendry had already left the main house through the courtyard to the older section of the estate after they met up with the Tullys. There housed the "Great Hall" as they called it. The place was enormous and had plenty of room for dining and dancing. Jon had taken her on a tour of it earlier in the day while she suffered a wine-induced hangover. She was impressed with the decorations and complimented Jon, who appeared embarrassed. Since the Masquerade was historical themed, there was no modern lighting, only candelabras. The dinner to be served was all medieval fare: mutton and lamb, with of course vegetables such as chard, and fruits of course. Dessert was going to be lemon cakes, Sansa's favorite sweet treat. There was a stage erected in the back for the top performers in the country to entertain in the form of a play, and then of course historical music throughout the centuries for everyone to attempt to dance to. The courtyard will be holding sparring contests and archery. It was all on such a grand scale that it took her breath away, and the festivities hadn't even begun yet.

She blinked at the silent reflection, noticing how pale it was.

The news of Arya and Gendry had shocked her. Not that she wasn't expecting it eventually, but to have it sprung on her so suddenly was a jolt to the system. She had to admit to herself that she was jealous, bitterly and privately jealous, but the crux of it all wasn't even the envy, but the fact that Robb knew about it ahead of time and said not one world to her so she could prepare herself.

He should have told her. How could he keep something like that from her? He vowed long ago never to keep secrets from her, to share everything with her, but this? She felt the omission was a betrayal. A betrayal because he should have known it would be a dagger in her heart. Her younger sister, the former tomboy, the willful, outspoken little sister was getting married. Something she could never have with the man she loved and adored. The only man who understood her and accepted her and loved her. Never to share the happy news of becoming his wife. How could he be so thoughtless to her? With Bran marrying Meera, well, that was different. Although she felt pangs when she stood as a bridesmaid and Robb stood as groomsman, it was somewhat bearable. But this?!

She punished him by staying away from him all day. It was easy to do in a place like Winterfell. She refused to talk to him and only glanced at him once. She saw the hurt and confusion on his face and turned away. He knew better than to follow her; appearances were everything and that was a conversation they could not afford anyone to overhear. She shadowed Jon all day for the most part, surprisingly, and she found his company calming and easy.

She tried to push Robb out of her mind as she picked up the mask to slide it over her face. Peering into the mirror to make sure it was straight, she surveyed her complete look and was satisfied. Thankfully the headache subsided and she was feeling alive from the top of her head to her velvet-slippered feet. She was ready.

Resisting the urge to go find Robb and make the entrance clinging to his arm, she left her room and floated down the stairs.

 

******************

 

The Great Hall was already bustling when Sansa entered.

She saw so many masked faces, all dressed in various eras of historical garb. The candlelight flickered around them and the air was heavy with laughter, conversation, and music. Panic set in her breast and she took a heavy breath, looking around for a familiar face. She found Jon, dressed in a black tunic and breeches and knee high black boots, his hair pulled back from his face. His dark eyes peered through a solid black mask. He clutched a cup of ale or wine that flowed freely at every turn and he was talking to a tall man with blonde hair dressed in a knight's outfit of gold and white with a coordinating mask. Jon talking. Jon mingling. What a concept. He glanced over at her when she tentatively approached and smiled.

"Sansa! You look lovely. So hard to not miss your red hair; no one could mistake you for anyone else," he breathed. "I was worried you had changed your mind. Jaime was just talking about you."

Sansa stepped forward to the hand offered by Jaime Lannister. Hesitantly she placed her cook hand in his gloved one, which he brought to his lips to graze formally before smiling. It could never be said that Jaime Lannister didn't have perfect manners. She couldn't help but smile back. He was the only member of Joff's family that she could ever stand and he always treated her with respect and warmth. She rather liked his attention and thought she should be ashamed over it; he was twice her age. But if shame ceased to exist over her brother, then why should she have any bad feeling over a formal hand-kissing? She needed to get over her fears...and behind a mask, she could try. 

"Mr. Lannister, this is a surprise. The last time I saw you was at my first fashion release."

"Please, it's Jaime. You know me well enough to be on a first name basis. Although with the treatment my nephew gave you, I can't blame you for sticking to formalities."

Jon visibly tensed but he kept his eyes on Sansa. She knew he was nervous for her. Sweet, gentle Jon. Suddenly she wished she had treated him better growing up. He was truly a fine man.

"Are you enjoying the party?" She could think of nothing else to ask.

"I have to say yes. The Lannisters and Starks have not always had the best of business alliances, but Jon and Robb have earned our admiration...to a point. And it helps that the Stark brood are easy on the eyes as well as charming."

"Well, Jaime, why don't we try the dance floor to see how charming a Lannister can be?" She was much more bold behind her mask. He flashed a sensuous grin.

"I accept that challenge, Miss Stark."

"Lead the way." Sansa's words fell out before she really knew what she was saying. Maybe she did still have some sort of wine hangover. She quickly snapped up a cup of ale from a passing tray, nearly gulping it all down. She couldn't help but shudder and purse her lips. Jon and Jaime both snickered at that. 

"Here, Jon, thanks."

She deposited the cup into his free hand as Jaime willingly led her other hand to the dance floor. A slow tune. Great. When was the last time any man held her but Robb? She couldn't remember any man other than Robb in the past eight years.  
Facing Jaime awkwardly, she placed one hand on his shoulder and the other clasped his left hand. He maintained a decorous distance as to not press his body against hers and she relaxed, the ale warming her as well as his bright eyes and half grin. She wasn't surprised to find out he was an excellent dancer. Through the slots in her mask her eyes rested on his lips. Not as full and as sensuous as Robb's,but she still imagined he -

_No, no_.

She tired to focus on small talk.

"I've been meaning to call on you and Robb," he said, keeping in time to the music."I've been horrible about that and I apologize -"

"No need. I haven't been a social butterfly as it is, you know."

"Understandable."

He deftly twirled her around and she laughed in soft excitement. She let her gaze survey the hall. She saw some people recognizable even under their costumes and masks: Theon, already trying to shoe odd in front of some ladies; his sister Yara, dressed in leather pants and chatting up a buxom blonde in a Marie Antoinette getup; Great Uncle Brynden, looking dapper in chainmail; Edmure looking tired with his gorgeous, vivacious wife Rosalin; Arya as Joan of Arc dancing with a blacksmith-dressed Gendry. Jon had taken a seat at a table with his current flame Ygritte, who looked like she was in some sort of barbarian outfit (odd choice, Sansa thought); Robert Baratheon, already rip-roaring drunk sitting next to a bored-looking but ravishingly beautiful Cersei, who was also encased in white and gold like her brother. Sansa skipped over her quickly; she hated that cold bitch of a woman. Oh dear god, she spotted Oberyn Martell in a corner feeling up what looked like to be a man and a woman. So it was going to be that kind of party? Well, Oberyn would make it that kind of party no matter where he was...

She turned her attentions back to Jaime, barely noticing he was up against her body. Not tightly, not insistently, so maybe it was a mistake. She pulled back and bit her lip.

"Are you all right, Sansa?"

"I - yes, I am fine, I'm just- not used to dancing. It's been so long -"

"You and me both." His smile showed understanding. "I was hoping I wasn't embarrassing myself."

"Not at all." She was being honest. "I don't think I could have a better dancing partner. Trust me, I've been glancing around the room and you are the best by far."

He is old enough to be her father. Old enough to be her father. She needed more ale. What was she doing? What was he doing? She was actually enjoying his company. The song ended but started into another slow one. _Perfect_.

Again she scanned the room ans her eyes found Jeyne and Margaery, looking more like medieval whores than anything, talking with Loras and Renly. Ah, Loras and Renly, the worst kept secret in the whole country. 

Then she saw Robb and she blinked to make sure her mask wasn't deceiving her view.

There he was, standing next to Jeyne, perfectly handsome in his dark grey medieval Lord outfit. The jacket fut snugly over his muscles and buttoned down all the way and he wore a belt at the waist. His trousers matched and his high boots were a darker grey than his outfit. His mask was wolf-like and his hair a tousled mess of curls. He was bent over, whispering in Jeyne's ear and she tensed. He obviously hadn't seen her yet or he would not be talking to his ex-girlfriend.

_Robb_.

" - so there's that -"

She realized she completely shut Jaime out for a few seconds while she concentrated on Robb.

"I'm sorry, Jaime, I'm a bit overwhelmed. Could we sit?"

"Oh, of course. Have you eaten?"

"Yes," she lied."I think maybe I just need something to drink."

He led her over to the nearest server, grabbed two cups of ale, ans then led her to a settee that was nestled out of the way of the crowd. She sank into it thankfully, downing the ale, trying to concentrate on Jaime while her eyes found Robb again. _Was he even looking for her? Was she even on his mind _?__

____

"Are you sure you should be drinking that quickly? It's pretty strong ale -"

____

"You sound like my _brother_." It came out bitter and she cleared her throat.

____

It was hard to decipher the look her gave her through the mask.

____

"Your brother has taken great care of you, hasn't he?" His voice was soft, almost a lull, Her toes felt warm underneath her slippers.

____

"Ummm. Hmmm."

____

"Sansa?"

____

"I'm sorry. You are right. It feels like the room is spinning." He was right, it was really strong ale.

____

"Do you want some fresh air?"

____

She nodded and he helped her stand, handing his cups over to another server. Before they could make their way out to the courtyard, Jon approached them.

____

"Sansa, care for a dance? Ygritte hates dancing but I feel a need to cut a rug."

____

"Ummm." Her head felt light. Could she still dance? It was Jon, after all.

____

Jaime brought her hand to his lips and lingered for a moment before offering up a slow smile.

____

"She is all yours, Jon. Sansa, thank you for the lovely time on the dance floor."

____

In moments he disappeared into the crowds, his cape swaying behind him. Sansa resigned herself to Jon's arms, and he held her even more carefully than Jaime. His dark eyes bore into hers and he seemed like he was struggling to find words. She would have helped him with the conversation but she finally had to admit to herself that she was fairly intoxicated. Not enough to make a fool out of herself, but maybe enough to want to see what kissing Jaime Lannister would have been like. Well, maybe that would have made a fool out of herself. Probably.

____

"You know, I don't think Jaime's intentions with you tonight were strictly honorable. He seemed to be dancing pretty close."

____

"Like _you_ ?"

____

Jon cleared his throat, trying to make less contact with her but ended up with a light hand on her waist. She didn't really mind. It was just Jon.

____

"You are my _cousin_ , Sansa." He stumbled a bit trying to find the right words. "I'm pretty sure it's in bad taste to make moves on a cousin."

____

She laughed. She didn't mean to, or maybe she did. Her fingers were tingling.

____

"So me being a cousin is the only thing stopping you?" It came out teasing, poking fun at him for his bad choice of words.

____

"Uh, that's not really what I meant." His eyes tried to drop but then rested on her breasts. That was no good, so he averted his eyes again, this time to the floor. "I guess if we weren't blood-related I guess I would think you were beautiful."

____

"You think I'm beautiful?" _How fascinating to know_.

____

"As a cousin."

____

"Do you know it's perfectly legal for cousins to marry in some states?"

____

Oh sweetbabyjesus, she was trying to flirt with her cousin. This was not _her_. This was _not_ Sansa Stark. But maybe it was? Hell, she was in love with her brother. Why not have some fun with her cousin? He was good-looking enough for any woman. Personally she thought him too good for the likes of Ygritte. Thoughts she never had before formed in her mind.

____

"Sansa?"

____

"I'm sorry. I just meant cousins are perfectly able to fuck legally. Unlike siblings."

____

"Sansa!" His shocked voice raised an octane.

____

"I think I had too much ale."

____

"You _think_ ?!"

____

She pressed closer to him, The bad thoughts needed to stay away. Jon let her cling to him and she found herself digging her fingers into his shoulders. He had both hands on her waist. He was closer than Jaime had been and she could feel his muscles through his tunic. He was slightly stockier than Robb; Robb had a more slim build with a narrower waist, but Jon was just as well-built. If not better. _Robb_. She looked around and didn't see him anywhere. Marg was sitting with her father and grandmother. Where was Jeyne? Where was _Robb_ ? They were both gone. Oh no. _No_. He wouldn't. Would he? _He fucked Jeyne the night she got carved into at the cabin, why would he not fuck her now_ ? He was mad that she was mad at him. What better way to get back at her being mad over him not telling her about Arya's engagement?

____

She lifted her chin and stared at Jon.

____

"Kiss me."

____

He stopped dancing and she felt him startle.

____

"Wh-what?"

____

" _Kiss me_."

____

Damn mask, All she could see was his full mouth slightly dropping open. He said nothing.

____

"No one is watching us. Everyone's either too drunk or involved with someone else. I want you to kiss me." She did. She wanted to see what it was like to kiss him, and maybe get a little back at Robb as well.

____

Silence from Jon.

____

" _Fine_ , I'll go find Jaime Lannister and -"

____

She felt his lips suddenly pressing down on hers. She leaned into him, moving her mouth hard against his, tasting ale. Or maybe it was her ale. It felt good. Nice. Like... _lemon cakes good_. Not the fire she had with Robb, but... _sweet_.

____

He jerked away, hands tightening on her waist, crushing the silk. She thought she could feel his cock harden against her. That was a nice boost to her ego. She wish he hadn't stopped.

____

"So you do think I am beautiful. I can _tell_."

____

"Sansa -" a warning tone. "Let me take you to your room. I think this was a...bad idea for you to be here -"

____

"Yes, Jon, _please_ take me to my room." She giggled. "Promise to stay? Or maybe I'll invite Jaime. I am sure someone who dances so well must also be -"

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"Stop, Sansa! You don't know what you are saying, Or doing. I'm making sure you get to bed. I'll let Robb know you weren't feeling well and went to bed early."

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"Isn't Podrick Payne here somewhere? They say he has a magic cock-"

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" _Enough_ , Sansa." He was guiding her out of the hall, through the courtyard, and to the back entrance of the main house, the sounds of the revelry becoming more and more faint. She did well walking, she wasn't that far gone, but he walked her anyway up the flight of stairs to her room. She did feel a little lightheaded and when she crawled into bed the room spun a little. She looked up at Jon, who took her slippers off and laid them by the bed. She still had her mask on but he had removed his. She could see the strained look on his face and those big, dark eyes studying her.

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"Jon-" her voice sounded low, small.

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"Yes, Sansa? He asked warily. "What is it?"

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She gulped and hugged a pillow to her chest.

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"Was that a bad thing, what we just did?" She was already feeling guilty and tried not to think of Robb, but it was no use.

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"Get some rest, Sansa, I'll check on you soon. To be honest, I'm not much for parties."

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"Then why give such a lavish masquerade party?" 

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He smiled and his form started to blur before her eyes.

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"Because everyone can be someone else behind a mask."

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	12. Repercussions

Robb was desolate, frustrated, tense.

He knew it was no way to be at his cousin's party. Jon had put so much effort into this affair and the least he could do was to try to enjoy it. But after Sansa's cold shoulder all day long he was in no mood for a celebration.

They rarely ever fought. Even her silent treatment wasn't really a fight but if hurt him more than if she would have struck him and screamed at him. He was upset more with himself. He should have realized the impact Arya's announcement would have had on her, plus the fact that Gendry had asked him permission beforehand. He was happy for his little sister and thought Sansa would be as well; she was thrilled when Bran and Meera tied the knot. With a deeper thought process it dawned on him that woman to woman, sister to sister, it was upsetting. He could never offer himself as a husband to Sansa, not legally or publicly anyway. If she chose to stay with him she would never become a wife or mother. Robb thought of her as an independent woman not needing or craving the stereotypical labels society expected. She never mentioned those desires anyway.

Dressed and masked, Robb had made his way to the Great Hall, and immediately he had people approaching him. Theon, already hanging on a brunette dressed as a tavern wench, strutted up to say hi. Theon was his closest friend but he was in no mood for his typical bullshit. Then the top members of the company, Jon's right-hand men Davos and Stannis stopped for pleasantries, along with the Martells, and then Olenna Tyrell, thankfully without Marg.

He searched for Sansa everywhere but she was nowhere to be seen.

Presently he meandered into the courtyard and had a sparring bout with Gendry and Arya. Arya beat him of course and Gendry put up a decent fight. Robb felt some of his frustration ebb when he swung the sword but his heart really wasn't in it. He left to find Jon to give him some excuse to head back to the house, but thought better of it when he spotted Jon talking to Jaime Lannister. Robb had no love for the Lannisters after how Joff had treated Sansa. He swore under his breath and turned to leave hwen he was accosted by Marg and Jeyne. Double trouble. He thought they looked like two overdone whores with their cleavage bursting out of their billowed corsets. Obviously they already had too much of the ale. Robb hadn't had nearly enough of it to be able to tolerate two exes fawning over him. He knew if he said the words he could get an easy threesome tonight. The thought did nothing for him.

Then, as if my some sixth sense, his gaze found Sansa and he swore under his breath.

She was dancing with Jaime fucking Lannister.

God he hated the Lannisters. Most of it was guilty by association, because of Joff. Joff was Robert Baratheon's son but the little shit took after his mother's side completely. Plus they had been competitors for a long time, before Robb brutally took them down. He knew it was petty but he did it solely as payback for Sansa.

His eyes narrowed through his mask. She was so breathtakingly lovely in blue, flowers entwined in her hair. Robb hated the way Jaime smiled at her and held her close. He was twice her age but he knew..he _knew_ Jaime was all charm and wit. That Sansa was actually touching another man even in just a dance made Robb's blood boil. She was _his_ , his Sansa, and here she was dancing with a Lannister. Jaime was not the one that held her when she had nightmares or listened to her when she revealed her innermost thoughts and dreams. Jaime was not the one who had taken meticulous, loving care of her healing back. Jaime was not the one she cried out to in the heat of a climax.

Then again, Jaime Lannister was not her _brother_.

He wanted to rush over there and cut in so he could be the one to hold her close, so he could bury his face in her hair and whisper endearments into her ear. He stood, rooted. One dance led to another, damn it... _damn it_. Jeyne was at him, saying she missed him and wanted to see him again. _Oh Christ_. He hadn't wanted Jeyne in the first place. Not really. It was his attempt at a normal life and she was a means to an end. But she wasn't Sansa. He leaned over and practically shouted in her ear due to the noise of the music and chatter.

"Jeyne, I think you are _entirely_ too drunk to have this conversation. You will regret it in the morning so please stop while you're ahead." _Robb, the gentleman, party of one_...

He allowed his glance to fall on her for only a few seconds, and when he looked up again, Jaime and Sansa were gone. Gone. Did he leave with her? No, she wouldn't dare. _Would she_ ?

"Please Robb, can't we just at least be friends? I don't see you at all anymore, and I - I'm not asking to be your girlfriend again. I mean, unless you wanted to -"

Marg turned silent and Robb sighed. He wanted to leave and find Sansa and put an end to her being manhandled by that smug bastard, but he needed to at least leave on a decent note. He pulled Jeyne away from Marg and led her to a more secluded area, grasping her arm with one hand and still holding his cup in the other.

"Jeyne, I am so sorry for how things ended, I really am. I was honest with you then and I'm being honest with you now. I don't want to be a friend or a boyfriend. Please just get on with someone else and don't waste your time on me."

He thought she might cry or smack him, but she only smiled up wickedly at him.

"C'mon Robbie, for old time's sake? Why don't you take me back to your room? From what I understand, that nice big cock of yours hasn't gotten much mileage in the past several years. It'd be a pity to waste such a fine specimen. After all, I know what you like. Let me -"

"Jeyne, it was fun, you served your purpose once upon a time for me. _I'm done_."

_Robb, gentleman, party of one...now leaving_.

"Jesus, Robb, why are you being such a dick? You've never spoken -"

Robb pulled away from her and started walking through the crowds. As he was doing so he found Sansa again, this time dancing with Jon. Well thank god. Relief flooded over him knowing Jaime was gone and their cousin had saved the day. Now if he could just make his way over to them. He needed to see her, touch her, speak to her, let her know he was sorry for hurting her feelings before she found another attractive and charming dance partner. Maybe he could even steal a dance from her -

"Robb Stark!"

_Now who the fuck_ ??

_Oh shit_. Robert Baratheon. Drunk as a skunk and loud to boot. Robb wished his mask was less revealing. He should have opted for a complete wolf's head instead of a half-mask. Robert's mask had antlers sprouting on either side. It looked like a weapon.

"Mr. Baratheon -"

"Robert."

"Robert - how are you?"

"Trying to give me wife away for the night so I can have me some peace -"

Robb's eyes flew back to Sansa and his his heart dropped to his stomach.

_What. The. Fuck_.

_No_.

_Fuck no_.

Jon was kissing Sansa. _Really_ ? Was it just an illusion? No. _He has kissing her_. Not a chaste cousinly kiss, a _real_ fucking kiss, and she was kissing him _back_. Robb saw red. Red everywhere. A strange humming noise roared in his brain and it drowned out even Robert's booming. He threw his cup to the floor. A few people turned to look but he didn't acknowledge them. His mind was trying to register it all when he saw Jon leading her out of the Great Hall.

Towards the house.

_No fucking way_.

He pushed away Robert, stalking through the crowds to the doors, his brow furrowing and perspiration beading around his mask. He wanted to yank it off but thought it best to leave it on to hide his rage. Always hiding his emotions. _Always_. Jon always wore his emotions on his sleeve and everyone loved him for it. He kissed his cousin in front of everyone and brazenly led her out and of course no one would think anything of it. For a second he thought of Jon's hands on Sansa everywhere in a lover's embrace and he clenched his fists. _He would not let it happen_.

Through his rage his heart was breaking.

He didn't even realize Arya was calling out to him until he was halfway through the courtyard.

"Earth to Robb. Helloooo?"

Robb stopped reluctantly, jaw clenching.

" _What_ , sis?"

She peered up at him, frowning. She looked a lot like Jon with that expression. _Jon. Fucking bastard_.

"Gendry and I want to know if you'd sit with us while we ate. It's getting late and we kind of want to eat before everyone gets too drunk and pukes all over the tables or something."

"I - I can't. I'm not - I'm -"

"Yeah? Spit it out."

"I was on my way to my room. I'll be back, I promise, I just need to take care of something and I'll join you -"

"Take care of something? What the _fuck_ would that be? Your hard-on from Marg and Jeyne tag-teaming you?"

"Arya, I don't have time for this!"

"Okay, _fine_. Go beat off and come back. But don't take either of those skanks back to your room, Robb. I don't want herpes around the family house!"

Robb made no reply, racing towards the house.

 

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Robb leapt up the steps three at a time up the wide staircase. He didn't even pause to knock on Sansa's door as he barged in and slammed it shut with a bang.

"What- _Robb_ ?" Her voice voice came out high-pitched, almost a squeak.

Robb's anger dissipated when he saw her, alone, fully dressed and lying on her back on top of the covers. She was hugging a pillow and still wore her mask. Thank god she was fully dressed. It meant that unless Jon was a one-minute man, he had left her like this. He paused for a moment, enough time for her to shove her pillow aside and prop herself up on her elbows to look at him, questioning. The light in her room was dim but through her mask he saw her eyes widen in shock. The dress was so low cut it showed off her collarbone and cleavage, which was starting to rise and fall rapidly. The necklace he gave her last year teasingly dripped down between her breasts.

He wanted to crawl into bed next to her and hold her, rain kisses on her neck and breasts...then his thoughts tore to the vision of those sweet, pink, trembling lips pressed up against Jon's mouth.

In a heartbeat he was over her without knowing how, pressing down on her body, his hands pinning her arms to her sides. He felt her squirm, bucking up into him as her scent assaulted his senses.

"So - how _was_ it, Sansa?" His voice was deep, strained. 

"How - how was what -" She stilled beneath him and he heard a soft moan.

Robb raised his hand to pull off his mask and then hers, breaking the ties in the back as he did so, flinging them to the floor. His eyes bore into hers but she didn't flinch; on the contrary, she met his maddened stare. He wanted desperately to kiss her, but refused. He didn't want to taste Jon on her lips. The roaring in his ears deafened him to her whimpers as he found himself yanking up her thin silk skirts to find with a shaking hand to find she was wearing no stockings - or panties. He felt himself hard against his breeches. Damn her for kissing Jon. _Damn her_ !

His eyes stayed locked on hers and in them he saw the lust in his eyes reflecting back into him. He refused to look away. His breath started coming in pants when he felt her legs part for him. He thrust his right hand over her mound, fingers only grazing her clit before unceremoniously shoving two fingers inside her already wet entrance. She moaned. Was she wet for him? Jaime? Jon? He felt her tense and move one free arm to his shoulder, nails digging in. _He didn't care_. All he cared about was that she was starting to pull away from him, starting to leave him, she would eventually leave him for another man. She was starting it...she would leave... _he couldn't let her leave_...

As quickly as he inserted them he withdrew his fingers and fumbled with his trouser strings while still holding her by her shoulder with his other hand. He stared into her blazing eyes and she bit her lip. If she was intending to protest he heard nothing from her, he heard nothing at all but his own maddening heartbeat and his groan in his ears as he released his painfully throbbing cock and slid himself deep into her opening with some difficulty. It surprised him and he heard her emit a sharp cry, but it didn't register. _Nothing made sense in the world anymore now that he was inside of his sister_.

He heard her gasp in raspy tones that sounded something like shock or pain and he felt her shuddering around him as her legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, locking there. For a second he didn't move. She was so warm and wet and tight, nothing like he has ever felt or ever will feel again. She said no words, only searched his eyes with hers while biting harder down on her lip, so hard he thought he saw blood; he abandoned all care and started moving inside her. The peak was building too quickly; his thrusts were hard and fast and bruising, taking from her and giving nothing back, nothing to help her on her own way to pleasure. He didn't even know what he was doing; he only knew he had instantly damned his soul - or, damned it even more than it already was. His heart was breaking and screaming and rejoicing all at the same time. _He just didn't care_...

Robb broke their stare to gather her in his arms and weave his hands in her hair, bending to down to bury his face in her neck. _He couldn't face her. Couldn't see her_. He was overwhelmed with guilt even as he pounded madly into her. He was thrusting so madly he heard her cry out his name over and over as he felt her arms now around his neck, hands pulling at his curls, stinging his scalp. He felt a wetness near his temple...he was descending into a madness as he tightened against her. He came so hard with a final thrust that he moaned a strangled sob into her neck, reveling in the final pulses as he poured into his sister. _Into the love of his life_.

He stilled against her, his erratic breathing starting to calm. Her legs were still locked around him as her raised up on his hands to look down at her.

Terror and shame struck him.

Her face was streaked with tears as she looked up at him. Her eyes were half-closed and she was shivering uncontrollably, lips curled into small smile that to him seemed forced.

_What have I done_.

Numbly he slowly pulled out of her, hearing her whimper, and sat up to tuck himself back into his pants. Looking down between her legs before she closed them, he saw his seed leaking out of her onto the sheets...and with it there were light red, almost pink streaks.

He froze and stared at her, horrified.

She reached out to him, silent.

Robb backed away from her off the bed, stumbling...and rushed out the door.


	13. The Morning After

Sansa was startled out of her sleep by a thundering knock at the door. 

Her eyes flew open and her heart stopped. Fear mingled with hope spread across her as she tried to sit up, instantly dizzying at the throbbing in her head and soreness between her legs. Her shoulder ached as she hurriedly moved under her comforter, then realizing the top was soiled, so she quickly folded it over to the side to conceal it. _Oh dear god_ -

"Sansa!"

Disappointment and relief intermixed when she heard Arya's annoyed voice wafting through.

"What?" It came out creaked and rather weak.

"It's fucking _noon_ ! Jon has brunch downstairs. _Get your hungover ass up and come down_ !" 

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"Okay - just - just give me a few."

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Arya ignored her and waltzed breezily into the room. Obviously she didn't partake of the ale last night. At least, not like Sansa had. Sansa glared at her as she moved to open up the curtains on the french doors to let the sunlight stream into the dank, dark room. When she turned around to walk toward the bed, Sansa panicked. _Why couldn't Arya just leave her alone like she usually did_ ?

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"Goddamn, sis, you're _still_ in your costume? You must have really been trashed. Too funny. You really did look pretty, though." Sansa blinked at her sister's rare expression of a compliment as she continued. "I'm obviously not the _only_ one who thought you made a pretty princess."

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Sansa swallowed but remained silent.

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"Yeah. Well, anyway, you need to come down and see what Jon has for ya."

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What Jon had for her? Oh, Jon. _Oh, Jon_ ! Her brain pounded harder in her skull. She wished Arya would leave so she could lock her door and never leave her room. Instead Arya approached her but stopped about a foot from the side of the bed. Sansa was pretty sure she meant to snatch the covers off of her and bodily drag her out, and she knew she was perfectly capable of doing it. Arya was pretty damn tough. But instead, she looked down, a frown puckering her thick brown eyebrows. To Sansa's horror, Arya bent down with little grace and came up holding two masks in her hands. The feeling of ice flooded her whole body. She met Arya's gaze and then darted her eyes back to the masks.

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"What the _fuck_ is Robb's mask doing on the floor with yours?"

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Sansa found her brain for a moment.

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"He...he checked on me at some point. I...I still had my mask on so he...took it off. I think he took his off too and just must have forgotten it. It's a heavy mask and I think it irritated him."

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Her sister was smart as a whip but Sansa prayed she would accept the feeble explanation.

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"Yeah, well, in your drunken state it looks like you fucking broke it. You won't be getting your deposit back at the costume shop for sure."

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_The mask wasn't the only part of the costume that was messed up_ , Sansa thought grimly.

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"Arya -"

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"Yeah, yeah, leave you alone, right?" She tossed the masks next to Sansa's hip and wrinkled her nose. "Do you smell something?"

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_Oh dear sweetbabyjesus_.

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"Yes, yes I do. It's the funk of my drunken state permeating the entire room. Can you please go now so I can get up and at least change?"

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"Sure thing, sis." Arya turned and walked to the door, looking back at her. "You really did look pretty, Sansa. I'm glad you got out and enjoyed yourself."

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Sansa smiled although she thought she would vomit from panic.

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"Thank you, Arya."

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She was gone and Sansa laid immobile for a moment. Robb never came back to her room, at least not that she knew of, and Jon - did Jon ever come back to check on her? She slept the sleep of the dead and she hoped that he didn't come in and see anything.

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_Jon. Jaime. Robb. Robb! Oh god._

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She replayed the memory of him entering her room, looming over her larger than life. He had looked positively wolf-like and massive to her and she recalled his eyes. She had never seen his eyes so intensely furious with her before. Why? He has asked her - _how was it_ \- what was he talking about? The party? And he said nothing else, just took her savagely and she let him. She wanted it, she wanted him. How long had she begged for him to make love to her? He always resisted, clinging to some shred of honor to rationalize the love and attraction they felt. The better part of a decade giving her the few abortive pleasures he allowed, denying her completion, denying them the ultimate act of love, and in a drunken night he fucked her like a wild, unleashed beast. The instant pain intermingled with the pleasure. She always thought her first time would be with Robb but it would be sweet, slow, full of passion and tenderness and poetry and love. Twenty-six years old, losing her virginity to her brother while she was tipsy and he rutted her like a common whore was not what Sansa imagined.

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It wasn't for lack of opportunity with anyone else. She knew she was beautiful and wanted. In high school the boys sure did try. None of them evoked any desire in her. The only actual boyfriend she had in school was Joff, but it was a casual thing and oddly he never tried to fuck her. All he ever seemed to want were blowjobs, and she gave him what he wanted, fool that she had been. She had grown up with the Baratheon kids as her friends and she thought she could trust him. He pursued her at at time where she had been scared of how much she relied on Robb, scared of how she felt emotionally and sexually towards her own brother. Of course Joff turned out to be a complete asshole. Robb was never an asshole to her, but he was one now. He was sickened by what he did; she saw it in his eyes. She reached out to him afterwards, she wanted to bring him down to her and hold him, but he turned away in disgust and left her. He practically sprinted out the door. He never wanted to stick his dick into his sister and he was obviously repulsed by what he did. What she allowed him to do.

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She wanted him. She wanted him more than anyone else. She still wanted him and he had rejected her. She suddenly wondered if he wished she had been Jeyne. Or Marg. Or both. Was that it?

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She still felt him inside of her. He filled her in a way she never thought possible. She had no time to meet his lust and the shock to her heart and body was so great she couldn't think. When he entered her the euphoria mingled with fear and when it blazed through her head, all she could do was let him move at his will. She couldn't stop the tears. There was no other way to express how she felt. They were tears of joy, triumph, love, shock, and disbelief. And guilt. Guilt for flirting with Jaime and kissing Jon. There was no guilt over Robb or how much she wanted him, not in her heart anyway. The hesitation over him died a long time ago.

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Well, dwelling would do no good.

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She crept out of bed and stood up, her knees weak and legs shaking. The soreness in her lower abdomen intensified. She felt a trickle down her inner thigh. Trembling, she reached down and swiped at it, bringing the wet fingers to her nose. Robb's seed leaking out of her body. His cum. His bodily fluid draining from her. Thank all the gods in the world she was on the pill to regulate her periods. It was an odd sensation and definitely nothing her girlfriends had ever talked about, this messiness. She had to clean up and find something to wear besides a stained medieval costume.

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Sansa unlaced the front of her gown and shoved it down to her ankles. Walking naked into the bathroom, she started stripping the roses that were still tied to her hair. She turned on the water, making it as warm as possible without scalding her skin, and stepped in. Nothing in the world felt better than the first couple minutes in a shower. Realizing her necklace was still on, she clasped it, closing her eyes.

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_Robb_.

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"Robb," she whispered. 

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The only reply was the sound of her soft sobbing.

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By the time she made her way downstairs and into the dining area, everyone had given up on her except for Jon, who was sitting at the head of the table, laptop and coffee in front of him. She nervously took the seat to his left and sank into it carefully. Her wet hair was pulled back into a clip and she was very modestly dressed in a V neck fitted tee and comfy lounge pants. She looked dressed for a day on the couch and Jon was impeccable in a black fitted shirt and jeans, his hair carefully slicked back into his trademark manbun. He eyed her with something like wounded puppy dog eyes before smiling at her, motioning to the spread in front of him.

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"Good morning - I mean afternoon - Sansa. I had Satin refill your orange juice so it's cold. Not sure what you would be in the mood for, so there's a bit of everything."

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Indeed there was. Eggs, bacon, toast, bagels, crepes, waffles...just about enough food to feed a small army. In the middle of the table there was a round plate stacked with petite lemoncakes.

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"We had quite a bit of those left over from the party," he said, following her gaze. "And I didn't think you had the chance to eat any last night, so there they are. I also have aspirin if you need it."

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"Thank you, Jon, that is very thoughtful," replied Sansa, remembering her manners. "Where's Robb?" She couldn't help but ask, hoping her voice sounded normal.

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"Robb is helping the staff with cleaning up the aftermath. I'll be joining them as soon as you are done with breakfast. Or brunch, whatever you want to call it. I just didn't want to have you eat alone."

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"Thank you, Jon." He nodded and glanced away.

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She admittedly was famished. Maybe some food in her stomach would help with the sick feeling twisting at her stomach. Helping herself to lemoncakes and a tiny bit of bacon, she looked over at Jon, who closed his laptop and took a cautious sip of his coffee. She watched his lips curve the cup and remembered him kissing her. _His kiss tasting like... lemoncakes good._

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He caught her stare and sat down the mug with a gentle thud.

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"Sansa -"

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"Yes?" Guiltily she looked down at her plate while her breath caught. Jon cleared his voice as if he thought better of what he was originally going to say.

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"I have something for you. It arrived this morning and thankfully I was the one to bring it in. Robb was up at the crack of dawn and has been outside most of the day. He would have probably pitched a fit."

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He got up and left for a moment and a relieved but curious Sansa relaxed a little. So he was going to ignore the kiss incident. That was fine by her. She had more than just a kiss to deal with at the moment. But the kiss was sweet, not lust or passionately driven; it was Jon, after all. She wondered how that sweetness went over with a wild thing like Ygritte.

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Jon returned and she gasped.

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He set beside her a huge floral arrangement of blue roses set in a stone vase. It was breathtakingly beautiful and matched the dress she wore last night. Sweet Jon. Did he know what he was doing? She was flattered and pleased and shy all at once. Terribly romantic coming from her broody cousin, wasn't it?

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He must have been studying her expression because he blushed slightly and shook his head when she looked at him.

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"These aren't from _me_ , Sansa." His voice held a tone of apology as he extended the card to her. Her shaking fingers took the card, careful not to touch his hand. She opened the envelope.

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" _Please accept these as my sincere thank you for permitting me a lovely dance with a lovey fair maiden. Warmest regards, Jaime_."

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"Oh." The note fluttered to the floor. Jon swooped down to pick it up and he handed it back to her. She stuffed it into the pocket of her lounge pants. Arya's comment to her upstairs made sense now. It was still very flattering but she was deflated that that weren't from Jon. Or Robb.

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"I will need to talk to him today to tell him thank you."

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"Are you sure you want to? I mean, it's Jaime Lann-"

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"I know who he _is_ , Jon, and common courtesy is common courtesy."

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"He's your father's age, Sansa." his voice held a cautionary tone.

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"He's fourty-six. Dad would have been fifty-seven," Sansa countered, annoyed and amused at the same time.

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"His reputation is a bit dubious," Jon tried to redirect, seeing the age gap was going nowhere. "And Robb would kill him," he added for good measure.

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"Robb isn't going to kill anyone. Isn't that a bit of an extreme statement? Christ, Jon, it was just dancing. He is a very handsome man, very charming, and I had fun."

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"Well, I don't think it would be a good idea to tell Robb," he conceded. "He's in a bad mood today. He won't talk to me about it but I think he isn't happy about his two exes showing up and following him around. That's my fault, but I couldn't invite all of the Westerlings and Tyrells and leave them off the list. It would have been rude."

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The thought of seeing Jeyne with Robb brought sudden tears to her eyes and she cast her eyes down from the flowers to her lap. Her emotions were all over the place this morning. So much had happened in this past day, all because she decided to live a little for once and tried to be normal by going to a party. Now she just wanted to go home. _With Robb_. But Robb was avoiding her. Robb wasn't in a bad mood this morning because of Jeyne and she knew it. The drive home was going to be pure hell. A contrast to the lovely drive up here...

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"Sansa, what is it? Are you ill?"

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Instantly Jon was over her, concern darkening his face. He gently, with hesitation, reached down to touch her face and smooth the tears away with the pads of his thumbs. It was comforting and she realized she didn't mind his touch so much. She reached up to hold his hands in place and tried to smile, looking up into his calming eyes. She always had been such a snotty little brat with him growing up, and she didn't even quite know why. Well, she kind of had her reasons when she was a teenager. Jon noticed things when no one else did...

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"Thank you, Jon, I am just tired. I -" An idea formed in her head. 

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"Yes? What is it?"

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"Jon, do you mind if I stay at Winterfell for a few more days? I know Robb said we were leaving tomorrow but - well, he could go on without me. I just miss - home - this is till home to me. I've got a lot of good memories here. I know some are also sad but -"

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Jon flashed his winning grin.

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"Winterfell is still yours and Robb's and Arya's and Bran's. Robb signed the deed over to me but it will always be your home. I wouldn't deny you any time you wanted to stay here. That's why I've kept all the bedrooms as they were. Besides, it does tend to get lonely up here sometimes."

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She forgot for a moment how miserable she felt.

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"Lonely? You?"

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"Once in a while, yeah. I think a prolonged stay would be nice, Sansa."

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Without thinking, she flung her arms around him for a hug. He was shocked at the unusual demonstrative action but he gently hugged her back before awkwardly but gingerly pulling away.

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Sansa breathed a sigh of relief. Now she could give Robb the space he seemed to want. Although it might kill her to be away from him. She hadn't been away from him for more than a day at a time since she came home from the hospital.

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His reaction to her last night burned in her mind.

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She stared into the blue roses before her.

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	14. Forgiveness (Robb and Sansa)

The day that would never end finally ended, and for that Sansa was more than grateful. She thought for sure she would be able to just pass out from all the mental and emotional exhaustion, but of course she kept tossing and turning in her bed. The ache between her legs was subsiding but her shoulders and hips were still very tender. Bruises had formed there on her lily white skin, a glaring reminder of why she was still so restless.

Gendry and Arya had left in the early evening. They said their goodbyes and even then Sansa didn't see Robb around. Arya explained that he had stopped them outside of the Great Hall to see them off, so now Robb had managed to add avoidance to his list of perfected skills. Each passing hour of not seeing her brother shot more panic in her breast, and it took all of her pride to not go hunting for him.

With her sister and soon-to-be brother-in-law gone, the massive house was empty. After the cleaning up the house staff had the rest of the day off, leaving only her, Robb, and Jon to fill the void. Robb and gone to the stables to help Ramsay and Myranda. They cared for not just the horses at Winterfell, but the the training of the dogs and the upkeep of the grounds. Sansa never cared for either of them but kept it to herself. Winterfell was always a huge undertaking. The only staff member through the years that she liked and trusted was Jory, who was now employed by Robb at their own house. Besides, Ramsay ran around with Joff and Theon; no accounting for taste there. So, Robb managed to stay outside all day.

She shadowed Jon and he attempted to make small talk with her, but it it was pretty uncomfortable all the way around. He really didn't have the social skills needed for engaging chit-chat, and the unspoken kiss situation hung in the air like an albatross. With Jon's awkwardness and Sansa's mind clouded with thoughts of Robb, Sansa decided to retire to her room early, taking with her enough bottled water and lemoncakes to last for days.

She laid in bed, obsessively checking her phone every five minutes, hoping she accidentally missed a text from Robb. There was nothing. She thought about calling Jaime Lannister to say thank you for the flowers but decided she just couldn't bear it tonight. Maybe tomorrow, once Robb left, she would extend her courtesies. With no strong ale to fortify her, she wasn't brave when it came to dealing with other men, and she cowered at the thought of trying to handle a flirtatious Lannister.

She moved the freshly-laundered comforter up closer to her chin. It has been so easy to pop it in the washing machine with no one around to question it. Now it smelled like a spring breeze rather than sex and desire. Concentrating on the soothing scent, she started to drift off, finally...until she heard a knock at her door.

Jon. _Or Robb_.

"Come in!" She shouted it with a nervous hitch in her voice. The walls were so thick one had to shout to be heard. She learned that at a very young age.

He hesitantly stepped in, slowly shutting the door and locking it.

_Robb_.

Her heart leapt and she smiled, so grateful he was actually here, even as an image of him in his costume and wolf mask flashed before her; feral, strong, passionate. It left her in an instant and was replaced by the broken man in front of her. His head was down, hand rubbing the back of his neck. He looked like he hadn't taken a shower after all the work he did outside and he didn't smile at her. When he dared to look up at her she could see his eyes were rimmed in red. She had never seen him in such a way before. 

Wordlessly she reached out to him, just as she did last night. Only this time he rushed gratefully to her and gathered her up in a tight embrace. Robb. She sighed against him, wincing a bit at his strength, wrapping her arms around him. He was solid, comforting, and he smelled like the earth and horseflesh. To her horror, she felt him start to sob against her. She never witnessed this before; Robb had always been her pillar of strength, her rock. He cried into her shoulder and she nuzzled into his neck, breathing in the salty sweat of him.

"I'm so sorry, Sansa. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry I hurt you. I can't take it back but I swear I would give my life up if I could. Please forgive me, my love. I won't touch you again, I swear it. I love you. I love you -"

"Robb. There's nothing to forgive. _Shhh_ , now. It's all right, I promise -"

He went on as if he didn't hear her.

"I didn't know. I didn't know you were still a virgin. I always thought - I mean, you never really said - I was never for sure and I never wanted to know. I'm sorry. I was a piece of shit, I forced myself on you and I ran away like a coward-"

She struggled out of his grasp, tilting her head to look up at him. His eyes met hers, watery blue with tears trickling out of the corners. His quivering lips parted in an effort for more words, but before he could start rambling again, she placed a finger to them.

"Robb, don't. You _didn't_ force yourself on me. I wanted you. _I always want you_. If I didn't, I would have screamed at you and told you no. I know you would have stopped if I told you no."

"But I didn't take you out of love," he choked. "It was jealousy. I was so jealous, so thoughtless. All I wanted was to possess you in a way they couldn't. _God fucking damn it_ , Sansa, I raped you -"

"No!" She grabbed his face to hold him still. "Listen to me, it _wasn't_ rape! I love you, and _I wanted it_. Even as it was, I wanted you. I've never wanted anyone but you. You've denied me for so long, I would take you any way you came to me." She felt tears in her own eyes now but he calmed at her words. Suddenly she registered what he just said. He was jealous. _They_. Oh god, he must have seen her with Jaime... _and Jon_.

She met his eyes again and tried to find the right words.

"Robb, I had too much ale last night. I enjoyed a dance or two with Jaime, _nothing more_. The ale made me plant a kiss on Jon. One kiss, nothing more, and he was shocked and embarrassed about it. He took me to my room after that because I was obviously tipsy and I am sure he didn't want me to get into any trouble. _That's all_."

"Oh god, Sansa, I -" 

He sucked in his breath as he looked down, and she followed his gaze. He was staring at the spaghetti straps on her nightgown, visibly shocked. He exhaled jaggedly.

_Her shoulder_.

Before she could wrench away and hide under the covers, his fingertips grazed the darkened spot. She panicked.

"Robb, Robb, listen to me. It's okay. _It's okay_. I'm fine."

"I did this," his whispered. "I hurt you."

She floundered helplessly. For once, eloquent words were out of her reach. It didn't matter anyway when all of her thoughts flitted away at the feel of his wet lips gently pressing down on her bruised skin in a feather-light kiss. Unbidden, she closed her eyes. Every time he pressed his lips to her flesh it always felt like the very first time he ever did it.

He continued ghosting kisses over her shoulder, then around her collarbone to her other shoulder, and instead of squirming away she pulled him close, already feeling her body starting to become aroused. She leaned back, taking him with her as she lay flush against the mattress, eyes closed to the sweet pleasure coursing down to between her legs.

Robb took his time with trembling hands and lips, so soft and gentle it seemed he was barely touching her, yet the sensation made Sansa nearly weep, and she knew she was wet for him. She knew this was part of his apology, the tenderness to make up for the brutality of the night before. As he had done so many times, he didn't remove her gown but gently slid her panties off. When he lifted the hem of her nightie to her waist, she heard him curse under his breath, and she knew he was seeing the bruises on her hips. Suddenly she felt his mouth there as well, caressing her.

"I'm so sorry, San, _please forgive me_." His warm hands parted her thighs and his fingers gently stroked her folds before spreading them open, as his lips and tongue found her crevices. She whimpered at his light licks, almost too light for her. She raised her hips to encourage more pressure but he drew back so only the tip of his tongue was exploring her petals and swirling over her clit. She moaned, loving the feeling yet knowing she could never achieve a climax with his touch so light. Before she could reach down and press his head in closer, he moved, planting kisses around her opening, using the same soft licking around and then into her hole. She cried and begged in whimpers as the tip of his tongue fluttered and circled just inside. It was pure exquisite torture but she basked in it, letting him do as he willed, afraid if she made a move he would stop. For how long he delicately tongued her she wasn't sure, and she didn't care. She was on the brink but she needed more to fall over the edge. He must have sensed it as he withdrew from her. She was sopping wet.

He crawled back up to her and laid down next to her on his side, his right hand propping his head up as his left hand dipped down to find her nub again, this time his fingers deftly moving in gentle, slippery, slow circles. He leaned into her and she fisted his hair as she leaned up for a kiss. She could taste herself on him when their tongues met; his kissing was also light and soft, and undeniably sweet. She felt the heat rising, the soreness between he legs all but forgotten while the pleasure remained. She felt some pressure finally being added as he slightly quickened his pace, and in no time his fingers stroked her to a climax as she kissed deeply into him, drowning her moans into his mouth as she arched up against his hand. The orgasm was ebbed by the slowing of his movements and it felt surreal, drawn out, euphoric, like she was drowning...

She pulled back from the kiss as her climax ended to look at him. Worry lines puckered into his forehead and around his mouth as he stared down at her, his hand stilled and cupped against her mound.

"Sansa -"

Again she placed a finger on his lips. He kissed it reverently.

"There is nothing to forgive. If it will make you feel better, then I will say I forgive you."

"I could never forgive myself," he whispered.

Sansa cuddled in close to him, ducking down into his chest while reaching down to grab his wrist, moving his hand down so his fingers curled and dipped slowly into her drenched entrance.

"You don't need to," she murmured.


	15. Lemoncakes And Longing

Jon laid awake in bed, staring at the ceiling through the pitch-black darkness. It was just as he liked it; it was so dark he couldn't see a damn thing in his room, not even his hand in front of his face.

He wasn't sure what sleep was anymore. Then again, he never really slept much, not like a normal person should. It was a probably a condition he should get some treatment for, but he figured as long as he felt fine on three hours of sleep or so, there was no hard done. Besides, he was a workaholic by nature and the extra waking hours came in handy for business purposes.

Fortunately the past week was like a staycation. He rearranged he schedule so he could spend some time with Sansa, as she had stayed on after the party. It surprised him when she asked to stay, leaving Robb to drive home alone. For as long as he could remember, Robb and Sansa were always together, even as children. After the murders they seemed to only become closer, moving into a new home with Bran and Arya. Sansa preferred to stay behind closed doors at their modest estate, only leaving to attend college courses she couldn't take online. Jon could think of only a handful of times he actually saw Sansa, and even those times were brief and wrought with tension, with her not letting Robb out of her sight.

Jon was more observant than people gave him credit for. Maybe it was his quiet, anti-social demeanor that deceived everyone. He picked up Robb's reluctance when he was leaving Sansa standing next to him, and for the first time in his life he was the recipient of Robb's icy stare. He pondered it for a moment, wondering if it was just imagined. After all, Robb was more like a brother to him than cousin. Jon couldn't help but look up to him. Robb was the shining star in everything he ever did. He had been the star quarterback in high school, dating two of the most popular girls; he was an intellectual powerhouse in college; now, he was a savvy businessman following in his father's footsteps. Jon, always awkward with the ladies and not so charming and witty, wanted to hate Robb for being such a perfect specimen of a man, but he never could. All of the Starks seemed to have it all, seemed so flawless back in the day; they all seemed so poised and polite...well, except for Arya.

He smiled when he thought of Arya. She was almost like his little sister, and thought if he ever could have a sister, he would want one like her. She got him on a level that no one else did, even nearly reading his mind and finishing his sentences. Jon was an only child, and then an orphan when he parents had died in a plane crash. Ned and Cat had taken him in. He suspected cat had not been overly thrilled with the situation but she was unfailingly polite to him. Uncle Ned became his second father. He also got along well with Bran and Rickon, but it was Arya he always hung out with, even if it did raise some eyebrows, considering their age difference. He hung out with Robb when he could, but Robb seemed to always be in Sansa's company.

Sansa had always bothered him. He never knew how to act around her, but he suspected it didn't matter, because she never paid him much attention. She was either hanging onto Robb or hanging out with all her girlfriends, doing totally girly things that had made him and Arya roll their eyes. After the trauma happened, Sansa distanced herself even more from him and even Bran and Arya and clung to her older brother as if for dear life.

Now here she was, spending time with him alone at Winterfell. Rather, he guessed it was that she wanted to spend time at her family's home, not necessarily with him. It was odd, since she hadn't spent any time here since the private memorial service for the family. She had gone to Riverrun to live with her Uncles Brynden and Edmure until Robb had bought the house they were now living in. It was as if the memories were too painful for her.

Now she was choosing to stay for days and she was overwhelming him.

It was as if the party had made her come alive. He hadn't seen her so animated since her high school years. She chatted, laughed, even sang around the house; she had a lovely singing voice. Once her hangover was cured she seemed to enjoy herself, even going for a horseback ride with him on the property even though it had been years since she was on a horse. It was a blessing she was so animated, talking almost non-stop so Jon didn't have to stumble around for words. She talked about her fashion line and even about Ned and Cat and Rickon. Although her tone was saddened, she spoke with love and happiness at the memories they shared of them. She walked in the gardens, re-arranged the furniture in the house with his help, cooked dinner at her own insistence (it was actually really good), and it seemed every night there were lemoncakes for dessert. All the while, Jon tried to keep up with her vivaciousness. He noticed she would occasionally text Robb but refused his phone calls, and wondered why. Was there a falling out that he wasn't aware of? Maybe there was a reason for Robb's attitude before he left and his cold eyes. Eyes that Jon would like to forget.

Jon was also trying to forget about that kiss.

He wondered if Sansa's manic behavior was an attempt to prevent him from bringing the kiss up. He has wanted to talk to her about it the morning after but words failed him and he used Lannister's bouquet as a diversion. Maybe it was for the best anyway if they didn't talk about it. Most likely she has so much ale she didn't even remember it. Or, maybe she was embarrassed and wanted to forget like he wanted to forget. Or, thought he wanted to forget.

She was his cousin. _Cousin_. Kissing her was wrong.

He cursed himself over that damn party. He has so many texts and calls full of praise for it. Everyone was buzzing about it but Jon pretty much regretted it: the expense, the drunken escapades, people having sex in the guest bathrooms, Theon trying to strip down to his undies on the dance floor, the brawl involving Robert, Brynden, and the Karstarks, and the huge mess afterwards. Oh, and yes, _the kiss with Sansa_.

He had kissed her with Ygritte nearby but he assumed she saw nothing since his balls were still intact. He just wasn't thinking much except that he didn't want Sansa to run after and kiss on Jaime Lannister. That would have been a far more regrettable option, in his opinion. He was just shocked at his own reaction to her. He enjoyed how soft she was against him, how insistent she was, how sensual her hips felt in his hands, and he was horrified at how quickly his body had responded to it all. He wondered what would have happened if he didn't stop her, if there was no Ygritte in the picture. He cringed inwardly at that. He was avoiding Ygritte like the plague and he knew he wasn't being a gentleman. Of course he explained to her he had company visiting for the week, but maybe he could use some Ygritte company, especially at night.

With Sansa assaulting all of his senses during the day, at night he lay in bed, frustrated at his mind, his heart, his body. He was drawn to her like a moth to a flame and he did not understand why. It was just Sansa, the spoiled little rich girl who had always treated him like a poor relation, when she even noticed him at all. Only now she was a broken yet beautiful, matured woman who spoke to him as an equal. Gone was the willful, selfish Sansa, replaced with a thoughtful and engaging Sansa, and Jon liked the current version much better. She made him smile, something he rarely did, even when he was happy. She was a breath of fresh air in the staleness of his everyday life. He didn't really have many visitors at Winterfell, with the exception of Arya. Even then, the easygoing connection he had with her had been fading ever since she moved in with Gendry.

Jon sighed. His bed felt overwhelmingly cold.

He turned over on his stomach and grabbed his pillow. Sleep would evade him again, apparently. Sansa would be returning home tomorrow. Jon offered to drive her, taking the advantage to maybe stop by Arya's place on his way back, but she insisted on calling for a cab service. He tried to remind her it was a two hour drive home and that would be a hell of a lot of money, but she just shrugged. He kept forgetting money was not an issue for her, for any of the Starks, and not for him now, either. He bit his tongue to prevent himself from asking her to stay longer. He enjoyed her company even if he confounded him at every turn. He was also worried she would crawl back into her shell and return to her hermit lifestyle.

Flinging himself onto his back again, he ran his fingers through his messy curls and closed his eyes. He felt so tired but his body and mind and heart would not reconcile themselves and give him peace. He relaxed and tried not to think. Finally, it seemed he was drifting away when he heard his door creak open.

He blinked when light from the hallway glared in, encasing Sansa as she walked to the foot of his bed. His eyes started adjusting to the light and he noticed she was wearing a thin nightie, her hair a tousled mess streaming down her shoulders. He couldn't see her expression and she stood, silent. 

He should probably say something. Try to work through how stunned he was at her brazen behavior.

"Uh..um, Sansa? Is something wrong?" 

She said nothing.

_Jesus Christ. She was climbing into bed_. Was it time for a girly chat? He didn't think not for even one wild moment that she was meaning to do anything that was flashing through his head. No. There was some reason why she was here... _on his bed_. 

_Wait, what is this_ ? Her hands were on his legs and she was slithering up his body, a low humming coming from her throat. _What should he do_ ? He was frozen, petrified and undeniably excited as she pulled the covers down to expose him to her. He always slept naked but was regretting it now as he looked down and could see - _and feel_ \- he was hard as a rock. He needed to be a good man and a good cousin and tell her to go back to her room. If he was torn over just a kiss, this would not help at all. Plus Robb would fucking _kill_ him. He couldn't speak. He could _smell_ her. She had the scent of lemoncakes and arousal.

He almost died when he felt her slender, cool hands grasp his cock. Before he could react, she moved to straddle him - _sans underwear, oh god she wore no panties_ \- and then he felt her warmth and wetness as she sank down onto him, taking him in. God, she was tight. Being inside of her melted down any resolve and honor he had. He wanted to push her away, resist, but the feeling was too much. Instead, he found himself moaning and gripping her hips to hold her fast onto him. She started moving then, slowly, rocking on him riding him with as much grace as she did the horse from the stables, low whimpering emitting from her throat.

"Jon, Jon, you feel -so good inside me - so _good_ , just like your kiss -"

Sansa moved faster and he matched her rhythm, bucking up into her as smoothly as he could. Her moans turned into high-pitched gasps. He moved one hand from her hip to slip under her nightgown to find her clit, pressing up against the slickness in small, firm strokes. She arched into him and cried out.

"I'm cumming, _Jon. Jon, Jon_ -" Her lips spoke his name like a chant, hitching higher and higher, and her voice sounded different, not hers but yet so familiar. He was right there with her and when she screamed out her release he pulsated into her with his own orgasm. He looked up at her, her hair dark, and her eyes seemed to light up in the night, and they were the color of his, those eyes reflecting his own -

Jon blinked and his body jerked forward.

He felt the cold sweat on his brow as he looked down.

The room was encased in complete darkness behind the shut door and his bed was cold.

Sansa wasn't here. _She was never here_.

The dream had been so real he managed to ejaculate. He felt the sticky wetness all over his belly. He lay immobile, swallowing hard. He came in his sleep while dreaming of fucking his own cousin.

_Fucking hell_.


	16. Incapacitated

Sansa quietly opened the front door and disabled the alarm. It was deathly quiet so she figured Robb wasn't at home. If he was, he would have been rushing to her in a matter of seconds from wherever he was in the house to greet her. Or, considering what had happened, and the fact that she hadn't come home with him, maybe he was sulking in a corner somewhere. That wasn't Robb's way, but neither was fucking his sister without lowering his pants. 

It was just as well. She resented him for not consistently calling or texting her while she was at Winterfell. It was as if he really didn't care if she was away from him or not, and it hurt. On some level she realized it was all kinds of wrong. She was acting like a petulant girlfriend to her own brother. At first he had tried to call her but she let it all go to voicemail and he left no messages. His only texts were to ask when she was leaving and if she was okay. It could have been texts from Arya for all the love it showed.

Spending time at Winterfell with Jon had been calming. He had been a perfect companion and she loved the newfound ease of their relationship, minus the kiss complication. However, Jon seemed to have just glossed over it and Sansa believed that it all was just a silly mistake to begin with. Part of her wanted to stay indefinitely but the pull of Robb was too great. She had no doubt she had an opportunity to move back to Winterfell but she loved her home with Robb, the intricate gardens and gazebo, and her studio. While Winterfell was looming, massive, and breathtaking, their home now was warm and inviting.

While she could dismiss Jon's kiss, she couldn't dismiss Robb's fuck. Throughout the whole week she had stayed active, constantly busy, never letting her mind rest on Robb, other than to longingly check her phone for any sign of him and then ignore it. After their brief encounter where he apologized so sweetly, she informed him she was staying on without him and his demeanor changed. He was dark, silent, not speaking in protest but she could tell by the muscle working in his cheek that he was angry. She did not press him and he walked away from her. When she and Jon saw him off, he didn't even look her way, and managed only a curt goodbye in her direction while shooting daggers from his eyes at Jon. Her heart broke at that. Robb and Jon were more brothers than cousins. She couldn't remember a time where they fought or even disagreed on anything, and now -

Her phone vibrated. 

She swiped it from her purse to check. A message from Jaime Lannister, asking her if she had left Winterfell. Perhaps it wasn't such a good thing to have pestered Jon into giving her his number, but how else would she have thanked him for the flowers? That conversation had gone well, even if she had been so nervous she had counted the flower petals in the bouquet in front of her while Jaime's amused drawl excelled at smalltalk. He casually had invited her to dinner "sometime" and to come out to his Casterly Rock estate. That was something Sansa couldn't handle right now, not really, but she didn't deny herself his witty and sardonic conversations. He was a contrast to brooding Jon and passionate yet restrained (except for the masquerade night) Robb. 

She sent off a quick text to Jaime and stuffed the phone back into her purse, walking through the foyer and surveying the premises, making her way to the kitchen. Jory must be off today. A prickly feeling crept up her neck. She never liked being completely alone on the estate, or anywhere, really.

The phone went off again. She threw her purse on the counter before retrieving her cell again to look.

Robb: _Come upstairs_

Strange text. Strange that he hadn't come down already.

She walked briskly out of the kitchen, down the hall, over to the staircase. She paused for a moment before walking up the stairs and turning to the right... to his room. The door was wide open so she walked in and blinked, shocked.

"Robb. What...what happened?"

He laid semi-propped up in his king-sized bed. Clad only in a pair of grey boxers, he looked up at her, his eyes a bit glazed over. His right foot was in a cast that went up to his knee. Moving closer, Sansa noticed the scrapes on his other leg, on his arm, the stitches on the side of his head...and the massive fading bruise on his cheek.

"Oh, funny story, really." He patted the space next to him. "Come over here and I will share it with you, if you want."

She sat down on the bed, reaching for his hands. Robb. His hands were warm and inviting as always, soothing her constantly cool ones.

"Uncle Brynden, Uncle Edmure, and I decided to take our bikes out for one last ride before it gets any colder out. After a very interesting time at the bar and a bar fight later, I'm afraid I was a bit...reckless and I ended up in a minor scuffle. At least I had my helmet, although Uncle B called me a pussy for wearing it when we started out. The Harley is fine but I broke my ankle. Dr. Luwin was nice enough to give me some additional pain pills. The ER didn't give me shit. Although I haven't taken any in a day or two and the pain is a bit much."

"When did this happen?"

"Monday evening." He looked away from her.

"Monday? Why didn't you call me? Text me?" Her voice hitched.

"I didn't want to bother you." His handsome face suddenly grew dark. "It was the last thing you needed."

"Bother? You are injured in an accident and you think I would see you as a bother?"

"It's fine, Sansa. Jory and Uncle B, Arya, Gendry, and Bran have been by. I've got crutches. It's hell getting up and down the stairs, but what do I really need from downstairs but food? Jory has me covered on that."

"Jory's not here."

"Yes, I know." He searched her face. Oh god, his eyes. She could read them, knew them like the back of her hand. Questioning, pained, angry, but full of want and love. "I gave him the next week off with pay. He deserves it."

"What can I do, Robb?" She bit her lip. "Do you need anything?" It was so strange to ask him. Usually it was him asking her.

"Yeah. Tell me, how was your visit?"

"Fine."

He arched his eyebrow at that, a bemused smile on his lips. She noticed his beard was gone but he sported a five o'clock shadow.

"Fine? Well San, you spent seven days there so it must have been better than fine. You obviously didn't want to come home with me."

"I - I missed Winterfell." She couldn't believe how weak she sounded.

"You liked being with Jon, you mean."

He spoke evenly but Sansa knew he was upset. But why? She explained the drunken kiss. Why would he be jealous of that? Robb had never shown jealousy like this before. Not with Joff or any other guy she went out on a date with. He loved her but was not possessive of her. He once told her he had no right to lay claim to her, no one did; she was her own person, free to do whatever - or whomever - made her happy. Yet somehow a mere kiss with Jon turned him into some feral-acting beast.

She lowered her eyes.

"It made me feel closer to Mom, Dad and Rickon. We have a lot of good memories in that home. I felt like I could focus on the good and lock the bad away. Jon was good company. He is our cousin, Robb. He's my cousin -"

"And I am your _brother_." The meaning was unmistakable.

"You are my love and my heart." She brought his hand to her lips. "I don't know why you are so upset with me." She looked at him again and his mouth slackened as his eyes softened.

"Damn it, Sansa, I love you. But what I did -it was - you know, I could always live with myself when I kept holding back from - from being with you completely. I could still feel some honor about what we felt, what we were doing, and what we did. I could feel a sense of morality, that it wasn't truly incest what we were doing, and maybe it was also a way to punish the both of us for all that has been done. Hell, I think we can be arrested in some places for it. What if I got you pregnant? Not to mention the outcasts we would be if anyone found out, with the judging and the cruel remarks. Our family would be forever shamed. I couldn't do that to you. I won't do that to you."

Cold pierced her heart. The way he said that...he couldn't mean...could he? It was the painkillers working, or just the pain in general. It sounded like he was trying to break off the intimate side of their relationship.

"Robb!" She leaned into him, finding his lips with hers, met with slight resistance at first as he didn't return her kiss. Panic filled her. She moved awkwardly into him, pressing her breasts into his bare chest, careful not to bump her lower legs on the cast. "Please, Robb, I love you."

His eyes closed and she felt his chest heave.

"Robb." She slid her hands down to his boxers and felt him hard against her palm. Triumph and an odd, smug satisfaction filled her. He still wanted her, would always want her. A new spark flared in her and a defiant thought crossed her mind.

_He was in no shape to resist her, was he? Would he shove her off_ ?

"Fine, if you won't kiss me. Keep your fucking honor to yourself. I don't want it."

His eyes popped open and widened, two bright blue orbs looking down at her as she lowered herself down to his waist. Was he shocked at her tone, her words, or the fact she was now at his boxers, tugging them down as far as she could get them? She didn't know and she didn't care as she freed his cock, thick and hard and at attention. He had never let her grasp it before, always stopping her after some light touching or stroking, and that was over his underwear. It was another sexual boundary he had set, self-imposing this torture willingly. She never understood it, as he had no qualms about giving her orgasms manually or orally, yet she was not allowed to reciprocate. _What kind of man did that, over all these years no less_ ? She boldly grasped it now, though, and looked up at him, waiting for a word of protest; not that it mattered if he did.

His eyes closed to half-mast and he said nothing, only gasping as she used both hands to grip him. His gasp turned into a heavy moan when she lowered her lips to taste the tip, snaking her tongue around the head, then exploring the small slit in the middle. It tasted slightly salty but to her it was good, because it tasted like _Robb_. Nothing would ever taste, smell, sound, or feel better than him.  


Without hesitation she bore down on him, her lips curled over to cover her teeth, slowly working down and sucking gently. Her mouth was stretching; he was not a small man. Joff had been much, much smaller, and did not taste good like this. She thought about how it felt to have him inside her that night of the Masquerade, how he filled her up, how she knew from that moment on, all she wanted was him inside her again...

Robb's breath was audibly raspy and sharp but he did not move to push her away. He also didn't thrust upwards or reach down to push her head further down, like Joff always rudely did. He stayed perfectly still, letting her suck and lick at him. She gently trailed her hand down to the base and then to his balls, caressing them with a light massage. Daring to look up at him, she saw his jaw clenching, his neck tightening, his arms out to his sides with his hands clenched into fists. His muscles were taut and the veins in his arms protruded. Her defiance of him deepened as she increased her pace and depth. She might not be able to take him all in but she would try. He was smooth and warm and wet; she could taste his precum on her twirling tongue and felt his cock tightening.

She felt herself becoming wet. He hadn't even touched her and she was soaking. It was turning her on to hear his desperate moans, low and sensual; it gave her a strange euphoria to know she was finally giving him the pleasure he had always given to her so many times.

He found his voice and the husky, strangled tone bolted to right between her legs.

"Sansa, my love, please stop. Please stop before I can't stop. Please."

She slowly sucked her mouth off of his cock and moved away, looking down at it. It glistened with her saliva and twitched on its own. So lovely, surrounded by a thin patch of dark auburn curls. Seeing him looking so vulnerable with his boxers pulled down around his upper thighs, his leg immobile in his cast, turned her on even more. _He was at her will_.

Sansa moved off the bed. Robb followed her with his eyes, heated with lust and questioning. She took deep breaths and blushed, suddenly shy, but the feeling didn't stop her from unzipping her skirt to let it fall, along with her panties and slip-on shoes. She left her blouse and bra on and crept back onto the bed, carefully straddling him, pushing his boxers further down his legs. Immediately his hands flew up to touch her breasts, run his fingertips over her hardened nipples, but before she knew what she was doing, she grabbed his fingers and pushed them down between her legs.

Staring into his eyes, she once again grasped his cock and lowered herself onto it, slowly, adjusting to his thickness stretching her. He groaned and she gasped, the feeling of him so new and overwhelming. He filled her up, it even hurt a little before she relaxed. She couldn't _believe_ the feeling. It was shocking and thrilling and foreign to her. That night at Winterfell she was half-drunk but now she was completely sober and hyper-aware of the sensations. Her heart felt like it was going to burst out of her chest as she gasped for air, whimpering at the blinding in her mind and soul. Through the haze she heard his groan and sharp breathing and felt his fingers stroking her clit. Oh, he knew _just_ how to stroke her, knew exactly the rhythm that could quicken her to her end.

Unsure of how to exactly move or what to do, she grasped one of her hands to her hip.

"Help me, my love," she whispered, still looking into his eyes. "Help me, Robb, help me-"

Wordlessly he started to move his own hips while guiding hers with his hand, and she easily matched the rhythm with him, so in tune with each others' bodies moving together, their low moans filling the room. Gentle, soft, unhurried; so much in contrast to their first time, and it was all Sansa could want. _This was Robb_. This was always meant to be, no matter how hard he would fight it. _This felt right_. She felt no damnation, no sin, no evil. She felt _love_. Their pace quickened. She felt her peak building; the feeling of his shaft thrusting up and down inside of her so smoothly was almost too much to bear. Her hands dug into his chest to steady herself. She raked her nails into his chest hair and clutched at his skin, never taking her eyes from him. His eyes delved into hers, his mouth slightly open, tongue flicking over his lower lip.

"Sansa, cum for me, love. My love. I love you. You feel so good, nothing better - there's nothing better than this -"

"Robb." His words and his fingers drove her over that edge. "Robb! Oh, god - _please_ \- Her climax jolted through her, hard and fast; she cried out, nearly a scream, throwing her head back, tossing her hair. She rode him and her orgasm out furiously, whimpering as she felt him tighten as his own release came in a deep, passionate groan of her name as he pulsed into her.

Before she knew it he grasped her in a tight embrace, pulling her down to him for a passionate kiss; tongues mating, breath heavy. There was no hesitation in his lips now as his hands weaved through her hair, touching her face, pulling her closer. _If only she could get even closer_...

She pulled away from his kisses. He was still inside her. She smiled down at him and he smiled in return, his skin wrinkling at the corners of his eyes.

"A penny for your thoughts." His voice was thick with passion. She looked at him intensely.

"I love you, Robb. I want this. I need you."

"As I need you. I've loved no other, and will love no other." His smile turned serious. "You're mine. _My Sansa_."

Her heart swelled as she hesitantly lifted herself off of him with a whimper. She heard him exhale in something like disappointment. She deftly pulled his boxers back up and sighed.

"I think I will go get a towel, clean this up a bit. I didn't realize sex is so messy. No one ever talks about that aspect of it."

He chuckled softly and pulled her to him.

"Don't worry about that right now. I'd like to enjoy this post-coitus moment before I'm reminded of my ankle."

"Are you sorry? Sorry for what I did?" She had to know.

"I love you, Sansa. You love me. That is more than what a lot of people have in this world."

She said nothing, only moved closer to him, wrapping her leg around his, careful to avoid his knee and below. Already she was relaxing into his familiar warmth. It didn't matter right now that he didn't answer her question specifically. She was home with Robb. That is all that really mattered.


	17. The Lady And The Bark

Arya was pulling on her jacket while Gendry flitted around trying to find his wallet and keys.

_Like a fart in a skillet_ , thought Arya.

She smiled at her analogy and ran her fingers through her hair. They were on their way to a dinner night with Robb and Sansa at the house. Initally, Arya didn't feel like going, but Robb had pleaded so pitifully she relented. Poor Robb had been having a time of it with his broken foot and finally his cast was off. She wondered about his sanity over the past several weeks; she knew Sansa had hovered over him like he was her baby. Maybe her older sister was finally discovering some sort of maternal instinct and was projecting it onto their brother. Not that Robb seemed to mind it. Arya has stopped over a few times to see how he was getting on, and oddly enough Robb seemed happy. A little too happy. The hermit lifestyle was Sansa's way, not Robb's. The more she thought on it, she realized Robb had been acting pretty strange since Jon's party. Moody, reflective, hanging out with wilde Uncle B, getting into a bar fight, and then wiping out on his bike.

So unlike Robb. Maybe he needed a hobby besides that of being Sansa's puppy. It annoyed her the way Robb followed their sister around, heeding her every beck and call, catering to her no matter what she wanted. He had always been like that, as long as Arya could remember, but it got worse after the death of their parents and Rickon. Arya could understand to some extent. After all, Sansa was the only survivor and god only knows how badly it traumatized her. Still, Robb shouldn't just up and forget he still had another sister, and a brother, and family that could use some attention once in awhile. That was the main reason Arya wa forcing herself to go; she hadn't seen much of her brother and she missed him. Sansa, well, she was just part of the package deal and Arya accepted that.

She heard the clanking of keys and Gendry's relieved sigh. He came into her view and she smiled up at him. Her dear, sweet, funny, totally hot man. She would so bang him of they had the time, but they didn't. There was always hope for later. Maybe they could sneak away up to her old bedroom.

"Found it underneath the bed, for some reason." Gendry shook his wallet in front of her.

"Are you gonna _ever_ replace that sorry-ass thing?"

Gendry studied it for a moment. It was falling apart, teeth marks all around it. He shrugged and smiled down at her.

"I think the dog bites give it a cool flair...like one of a kind. Ghost really liked it, I guess."

Ghost, the last dog left alive out of their childhood pets. Winterfell always had quite a few dogs around but nothing could replace the wolf hybrid puppies they all had as kids. All gone now except for Jon's. Ghost wasn't as spritely as he used to be, but sometimes he still liked to play and he obviously loved Gendry's wallet a little too much. She was amazed at how Ghost immediately took to Gendry and she saw it as a sign. Ghost was protective of her, too, and never let anyone near her, even though he was Jon's dog and not hers. He also kept close to Nymeria, her dog. She missed Nym and vowed never to have another dog.

"Ghost has always liked you, Gen. Even when you met him for the first time, he didn't go all ballistic like the rest of them did."

"Yeah, I remember being scared shitless of all of them, especially Grey Wind. They were massively huge and barked and howled louder than anything I'd ever heard. Well, besides you -- _OOF_ !" He smarted at her punch to his arm and then grinned.

"Maybe we could get a dog? Maybe not a huge-ass wolf like Ghost, but a guard dog to have around. You know, a barking security alarm system. Something to warn us about strangers coming up to the porch."

"Yeah. Ghost could wake the dead with his damn bark. I mean -" She stopped.

"Arya?" Gendry looked worried, taking in her furrowed brow and noticing the sudden glint in her eyes. "Are you all right?"

"Holy _fuck_ ," she breathed out. "Gendry, I can't fucking believe it."

"What?"

"Lady!"

"Lady?"

"Sansa's fucking dog Lady!"

"Sansa's long-dead dog Lady," Gendry said slowly, not following her. "What about her?"

"She was a damn barker like the rest of them."

"And? That means?"

"Sansa always insisted she never heard Lady that night at the cabin. She didn't know what had happened to her, where she was. Lady was found outside at the front door of the cabin, dead."

Gendry shifted uncomfortably and Arya knew he was about to shoot down whatever theory she had. He wanted her just to move on and accept the murders was now a cold case file. She would never give this up. Never. She would always be searching, rationalizing, questioning. She would never get the closure she craved...or, rather, the justice and revenge. Gendry would never understand. The only one who listened to her and gave her any credence was Jon. Dear Jon, he got her on a level no one else ever had, not even Gendry.

"Arya -"

"Wait! God, why the fuck hasn't anyone ever thought of it? Were the detectives that fucking stupid? I always thought they were mentally challenged...or on someone's payroll."

Gendry grabbed her by the shoulders. Sometimes he forgot how petite she was; strong as hell, but still so small. Her eyes widened and she seemed like that thirteen-year-old again.

"Gendry. Lady was just as protective as the rest of them. She absolutely hated strangers. She always went on warning attacks. If she didn't bark that night -"

He swallowed. He knew what she was thinking now.

"The killer had to be someone Lady _knew_."


	18. A Family Dinner

Robb sat at the head of the table, with Sansa on his right and Arya and Gendry to his left. No one really questioned it. Since Robb had taken Eddard's place as the patriarch, they always sat this way for dinners. He always has wanted a round table so everyone could feel more equal, but no one really cared anyway.

Dinner was turning into an odd affair.

He thought it would be great to celebrate a two-for tonight. His cast was finally off and Bran and Meera finally had their baby; a handsome little boy they named Rickon. The invite was extended to them of course but they preferred to understandably stay home. He and Sansa had visited them last week once Dr. Luwin gave his approval for his ankle, and it was an interesting visit. Bran was a proud, doting father, and Meera seemed tired and more than willing to let them fawn over the little guy. Robb couldn't get over how tiny and warm he was in his arms and secretly didn't want to fork him over to Sansa to hold.

When Sansa held him, she cried. She gushed about how beautiful and perfect he was through her tears but Robb knew she wasn't crying for that reason. Bran, so used to seeing Sansa so calm and collected, cautiously peeled Rickon from her arms. Robb's heart broke into a million pieces but he was unable to do what he wanted: gather her in his arms, kiss her, and whisper soothing endearments into her ear. Such was the price of their love; no open displays of affection, and no children of their own. It was a hard pill to swallow but there was no other choice and they knew going into this what the cost was. That night she had crept into his bed and cried against him as he held her lovingly, no words needed to be said. She didn't need to say the words because Robb knew them, and they slashed at his heart.

She hasn't slept in her own room for weeks now. The cleaning and house staff were always gone by five, and Jory never stayed too late in the house. He had his own dignified, elderly bachelor pad in the nearby guest house. Robb couldn't deny Sansa's place in his bed, and why should he? She always came to him and he always pulled back the covers for her to crawl in. He loved the feel of her as he drifted off to sleep and had cursed his cast for making spooning so awkward. He wanted to make love to her again but nothing had happened since the first day she was home from Winterfell. He replayed that encounter so many times in his head he thought he was going insane. He ached to make a move, but when he remembered the lust-filled night at Winterfell, he cringed and settled for cuddling instead. He didn't mind it so much, and yes he wanted more, but she would have to move first.

Sitting at the table, he felt a resentment at Arya and Gendry's presence, which was ridiculous he knew, since he pressed for the dinner. But it meant once again he had to put on his mask and be just a brother to Sansa. He loved Arya and liked Gendry but they prevented him from acting naturally with the woman he loved and adored. He barely looked at Sansa but was acutely aware of every move she made. He was also aware of her playing footsie under the table, gently caressing his right foot with her left one. The ache he felt had nothing to do with his recently healed ankle.

Arya seemed like she was bursting at the seams and it annoyed him. He prayed it wasn't pregnancy news. Sansa would not be able to handle that emotionally. Arya said very little through dinner, leaving Gendry to fill in the void. Robb listened to him and Sansa chit-chat about a possible photo shoot for her new designs of casual wear, not really hearing or absorbing anything anything but her sweet voice floating over him. Her lovely voice. _It was even more lovely when she cried out or moaned his name while climaxing_...

He looked down at his plate of half-eaten food. As usual he wasn't as hungry as he thought. His appetite was ravenous but it wasn't for food. His hunger for her was sharp and without thought or reason and had only strengthened over time, and since that damn masquerade it had ignited into a blazing inferno.

His skin was tingling under the table.

"So, Sansa, can I ask you something?" Arya broke through the conversation. Robb took a drink of his wine and waited. _Here it comes_.

"Of course." Sansa's perfectly shaped eyebrows shot up.

Arya leaned back in her chair, tilting her head to the side. Gendry visibly stiffened while Sansa looked at Arya expectantly, a remant of a smile originally directed at Gendry fading on her lips.

"So, Lady was a good, protective dog, wasn't she?"

Sansa said nothing but nodded slowly. Robb clenched his jaw and every muscle tightened.

"Well, I was thinking, that night at the cabin, you said you didn't hear Lady barking at all, right?" She swatted away Gendry's outstretched hand.

"Arya." Robb's chest constricted and he glanced at Sansa. Her face paled and he felt her move her foot away from his under the table.

"That's right," she said evenly. "Why are you asking?"

"Did it ever occur to you that the reason Lady was quiet was because she knew the person that killed her and -"

"ARYA!" He barked louder.

"Just a minute, Robb. Sansa, I am asking because I really think the person - or people - that killed mom and dad and ran after Rickon was someone who knows us, who has been to our house. Someone close. I mean, think about it. Lady would have attacked or barked or something, but she didn't. She was killed at close range. Why the fuck has no one ever picked up on that?"

Sansa stared at her blankly and Robb seethed. _Damn_ Arya, always so fucking blunt and careless when it comes to just about anything. Arya didn't know about the carved word on her back, which alluded to the killer knowing her; Arya only knew that she had been cut. Her revelation was old news to Robb and Sansa.

"ARYA! Enough, all right?"

"What the _fuck_ , Robb? Don't you think it changes everything if it was someone who _knew_ us? I mean, I know there were a lot of people questioned. Hell, they even badgered _Sansa_ , but nothing panned out and they started thinking it was a random act, or a serial killer, or a drifter or whatever. I mean, no fucking fingerprints? No tracks for a car? No footprints? Think about it -"

" _Enough_ , Arya." Robb looked over to Sansa. She still said nothing, looking down a ther plate, her bottom lip starting to temble. Robb's heart went out to her. Unfortunately, her silence only managed to light something in Arya.

"Why enough, Robb? _Why_ ? Am I the _only_ one who still wants to find out who killed our family? Who cut up Sansa? I mean, look at you. It's like you don't give two shits about what I just said. You don't even look surprised or that you even care...and Sansa, too."

Gendry looked like he wanted to crawl under the table. He tried to stop Arya but she swatted his hand aside as she stood up, leaning over the table at Sansa.

"Can you fucking _say_ something, Sansa? I mean, do you have any thoughts in that pretty little head of yours or can't you think without Robb speaking for you?"

Robb stood up, throwing his napkin down.

"I said _enough_ , Arya. Not another word."

She looked at him for a moment, defiant, then glanced back at Sansa, who still stared down at her plate.

"You know what, I'm done here. Sansa, I love you because you are my sister. But you gotta get your fucking head on straight. I get that you went through some major shit, but you know what? You are still here and alive _so fucking act like it_. I'm tired of being a witness to the weirdness that is your dependence on our brother. He hasn't been able to have a fucking life of his own since shit went down. It's been eight years."

She turned to Robb.

"Robb, I love you, too. But why does it seem like you've given up on wanting to find the murderer? Someone murdered our parents and our brother. That never goes away and you've always acted like you want it to. I will never stop trying to find out."

Robb watched as Sansa pushed herself away from the table and fled out of the dining room. Without hesitation Robb started after her, only to be reminded of his tender ankle. He only managed to reach the bottom of the steps when he heard the door slam.

Arya huffed down the hallway, Gendry in tow.

"I'm out of here. Goodbye, Robb. I'm sorry."

She didn't sound sorry but Robb nodded. She was his sister, and he loved her. He was certain she thought she was doing right but she never mastered how to do things with tact. He was worried now for Sansa. Before she bolted he saw the look on her face, a look he'd seen many times before. He knew Arya inadvertently just regressed her.

Gendry reached out to shake his hand and thank him for dinner, then leaned in to apologize before opening the front door.Arya started to walk out when she turned to face Robb. He had his hand on the banister, ready to go upstairs.

"Oh, hey Robb?" 

"Yes, what is it, Arya?"

"She's in your room."

With that, she was gone.


	19. Reflections

Robb tried the doorknob to his bedroom. _She had locked the fucking door_.

"Sansa!" He pounded so hard his fist hurt. "Sansa, love. Please open the door. Arya left. She's gone, okay? Just please open the door so we can talk."

He rested his head on the door and thought he heard the shower. Or maybe it was the sink. Worry trickled down his spine, making him shiver. She could at least say something, couldn't she? It wasn't like her to ignore him. Especially in times like these.

"SANSA!"

_Goddamn it. She wasn't going to respond. Spare key. Where was the spare key? Right_...

He sprinted as best he could back downstairs to the safe in the study and retrieved the key. All the while his heart was racing and somewhere in his brain he had the fleeting thought that he would have to see Luwin again, and not about his ankle.

He barged into his room after fumbling shakily with the key. She wasn't in his bed or his chair. The bathroom door to his private bath was shut and he now heard the distinct sound of the shower. Panic flooded him when he tried the door and it was locked. Thank god the door was flimsier than the door to his bedroom; he threw himself against it and shoved it open, banging it against the wall. He rushed over to the shower and drew back the curtain.  
Sansa sat in the tub, naked, her knees drawn up, her arms hugging them. The water was hot enough to have turned her face and chest pink as the water beat down mercilessly from the shower head. Her eyes were screwed shut, not bothering to open to look at him, and she held a razor blade in her hand.

"SANSA!" He yelled at her, grabbing at the razor. "Goddamn it... no! _NO_ !"

She came alive then, fighting him as he wrestled the razor from her and threw it to the floor. He cursed as he held her with one hand and turned the water off with the other. It felt like he scalded his hand. She said no words, just struggled against him as he pulled her out of the tub and into his arms. His ankle throbbed as he sat back up against the wall. holding her, getting soaked in the process. Water dripped into small puddles on the floor. Terror struck his heart. Was she really contemplating ending her life? He tightened his grip on her and she went limp as a rag doll, not embracing him.

"Sansa, Sansa, please say something. _Please_." His kissed the top of her head fervently ."Please, love, talk to me. I'm here, I'm here for you. Please, my heart, please -"

She suddenly jerked away from his lips and slapped him across the face. The wet smack echoed around the walls and Robb sat, stunned and flesh tingling, when he received another blow. Shocked and smarting from the sting, he let her slap him again and she was more forceful this time. Over, and over, she slapped him while wild, strangled hisses emitted from her throat. When she made a move as if she was going to claw his eyes out, he grabbed her wrists. She refused to look at him and let out a blood-curdling screech. Robb started feeling an anger building. What had he done to deserve this?

"Sansa! What the _fuck_ !"

"Fuck _you_ , Robb! Go to hell!"

He was terrified. He'd never seen Sansa like this. _Never_. She had never talked to him like this before. He was scared and angry and frustrated and, as she squirmed against him struggling to free her wrists, he was getting as hard as a goddamn rock as the blood raged through him. He closed his eyes for patience and control. When he opened them, he looked straight at her and her eyes finally met his. He saw fury and madness in them before she leaned in to kiss him forcibly, biting at his lower lip. It excited and infuriated him at the same time before he pulled his face away, tasting rust, still gripping her wrists.

" _No_ , Sansa!" 

"Fuck you!" She lunged forward at him again. " _Why can't you leave me alone_ ?"

" _Enough_ , Sansa!" 

He dragged her to her feet over to the sink and pushed her roughly against it, turning her around to face the mirror. He stood behind her, pinning her there while he wiped the mirror free of steam. She whimpered at bit, her anger seemingly quelled, and he knew she could feel his erection up against her ass.

Something snapped in him as he grabbed a fistful of her long hair, tilting her head up to look straight on at their reflection in the mirror.

"Look at yourself, Sansa. Look. Do you see yourself? _Do you even see yourself_ ? Do you really want to end your life? Stop living?"

He looked at her through the mirror. His face was next to hers, his sore cheek pressing against hers.

"Do you see me? Do you see _us_ ? Do you care about _us_ at all? Are you so quick to end us? End _our love_ ?"

Her lips trembled and she shook her head slightly. He could feel her legs starting to buckle as if she was going to faint.

"Then what the _fuck_ were you just doing. Tell me. Talk to me!"

"Leave me alone. _I hate you_ ," she whimpered. At least it wasn't a shout this time, but her words killed him.

"No." He pressed into her, feeling her curves against him. "I can't leave you alone. You can't be alone. Look what you do when you are. You can't leave me this way, Sansa. Not after all we've been through. Not after all we've done and all we've shared. I won't let you leave me this way."

Without thinking, his hands left her hair and skimmed down her neck to her shoulders, his eyes still on their reflection. She stilled at his touch and made a move with her hands clutching the sink as if to push back into him to give her some space. He didn't give her a chance as he placed his hand on her back and shoved her forward so she was leaning over slightly. Between his heavier, stronger body pinning her and his hand pressed against her, she had nowhere to go.

Robb lowered himself enough to lick the base of her neck. She said nothing but he heard her sharp intake of breath. His lips traveled down her back along her spine until he found her scar tissue and he started tracing the white scarred lettering with his tongue. He heard her whimper and shudder.

_B...R.._

His hands burned against her flesh, tracing patterns on her velvet skin.

_O...T..H.._

His tongue licked and traced the letters slowly, methodically, alternating with his lips. He felt her attempting feebly to wriggle away but he realized she didn't want to break free, not as she moaned and arched her back into his mouth. He had her right here he wanted her and he was damned if he would let her go. Her skin was wet and and smelled so pure and clean to him that it overwhelmed his senses. He had never tasted her this way before.

_E...R..._

His right hand slid down over the curve of her ass and skimmed underneath to find her center. She felt so wet and silky smooth as he dipped two curled fingers up inside her, both of them moaning as he did so.

_F...U..C..._

Sana's whimpers became higher, louder.

_K..._

His fingers moved in and out painfully slow, and the feel of her secretions and warmth coating him almost sent him over the edge.

_E..R.._

He was at her tailbone, sunk down on his knees, his left hand moving to grasp her ass cheek while his other kept working her, his thumb hooked over her clit, stroking, while he fucked her with his fingers. His face was at eye level with her firm, round ass. Something primitive struck him and without hesitation or warning he dipped his tongue into her tight, untried hole. She clenched and drew in a high-pitched whine, trying to move away, so he withdrew his fingers and grabbed her ass with both of his hands. His tongue was no longer gentle as he fucked her ass with it. She stiffened but let out a surprised cry of pleasure.

_Goddamn, it was thrilling_. He had never taken her like this, the passion and lust and anger flooding him, no restraint, nothing held back. He wanted more. He wanted to feel her cunt around him. He wanted to fuck her senseless, without boundaries, wanted to show her he would not let her leave him. He wanted to show her she couldn't stop wanting him, and he couldn't stop wanting her.

He withdrew his tongue and rose to stand against her, pushing his hardened cock against her. She let out a weak " _uh_ " and met his eyes in the mirror. Her lips had gone slack in desire but her eyes held what he thought was fear. Shock. Disbelief. He fumbled with his belt and unzipped within seconds, dipping down and sliding up into her. They both moaned in unison but didn't break their meeting gaze. 

_God, she felt so good. So warm and tight and so perfectly matched for him. This was where he belonged, where he needed to be_.

He leaned into her, snaking his hand down again to find her nub as his other hand cupped her full breast, holding her against him, his fingers circling her hardened nipple. She let out a low, soft moan as he lowered his lips to her neck, sinking his teeth in. She closed her eyes.

Hi hand left her breast to twist in her hair, jerking her head back to him.

"Look at us, Sansa. _Look_ !" His words were muffled into her neck, but commanding all the same. She opened her eyes and obeyed. He thrusted into her, long and hard, the heat building in his belly. He could feel the blood rushing to his groin and he fought for control. Her pussy lips felt slick and swollen under his stroking fingers.  


In, pull back, in, pull back - _he could do this all night, just stand here and fuck her_.

He heard her breath deepen and felt her walls tighten, and he know she was about to cum. He stopped moving inside her and stilled his fingers. She whimpered, looking at him in the mirror with pleading eyes.

No, no _yet_ my love," he rasped. "I'm going to make you _wait_. Look at me, damn you."

She did, her hands gripping the counter.

He started again; hard, demanding thrusts, his fingers furiously rubbing her clit.

He stopped.

_Again_.

Stopped.

"Robb, please," she begged. "Please, please -"

"No." 

Start. 

_Stop_.

She started weeping and grinding her ass up against him. It took all he had not to lose control.

"Damn you, Sansa. Don't ever _think_ of trying that fucking shit again. Do you hear me?"

"Y - yes," she choked out. "Please -"

_Again_. 

"You are mine, Sansa!" His thrusts were maddening, his fingers sliding around in her excessive secretions, stimulating her swollen nub. "You've always been _mine_ , I've always been _yours_. No matter what -"

Stop.

"Robb, please, I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! _I love you_ -" she was crying now, tears spilling from her eyes.

_Again_.

This time he let her reach her peak and she cried out, nearly a scream, biting her lip and fighting the urge to close her eyes, staring at him through her orgasm. Feeling her clenching and pulsing around him, and watching her cum against him in the reflection was his own undoing, and he quickly followed her to a blinding climax of his own.

"Sansa! Sansa!" He roared her name as he poured into her, nearly collapsing down onto her. He slumped over her, trying to catch his breath, nipping at her skin as he spoke into her neck.

"You cannot leave this world until I do. Do you understand? Do you understand, my Love?"

She nodded, beyond speech.

He slid out of her, looking down and watching as his cum trickled down her leg. She pushed off of the counter and turned to face him. He could see a red line across her lower stomach where she had been roughly pressed into the counter. He knelt then, raining kisses across the mark, before planting a lingering kiss on her wet clit, which wrought a sigh from her as she threaded her fingers shakily through his mop of curls.

Wordlessly he stood up, moving to the shower to turn it back on, quickly shedding his clothes. He reached his hand out to Sansa and she accepted it. They stepped into the shower together, clinging to each other tightly, possessively.


	20. Sanguine Sanctuary

Waking up to a face full of flame red hair, Robb sighed and pulled Sansa closer to his front. She moved slightly up against him while they spooned, her bare ass pressed against his erection. She was still asleep.

He groaned softly and buried his face into her neck, breathing deeply. He knew she needed sleep...hell, _he_ needed sleep...so he fought the urge to release his grip from her waist in favor of her warm, inviting center.

Hours and turned into days, days into weeks.

Robb lost all track of time after Sansa's breakdown. He left his phone off during the day, only checking and returning calls long after Sansa would fall asleep in his arms. He funded an extended vacation in Dorne for Jory, which the old butler didn't seem to mind one bit. The cleaning staff wasn't brought in, they had their groceries delivered, and he and Sansa set about sharing domestic duties. The estate was void of any signs of life besides them. Unannounced visitors were turned away at the gates.

He refused to let her out of his sight. She didn't even question him when he told her she wasn't to shut the bathroom doors anymore. He made sure anything sharp disappeared, like he was child-proofing the place. It was an obsession justified to him and he thought nothing of it. He had to admit this was his heaven and he possessively guarded it as if he feared someone would take it all away if he let anyone in. There was a time he thought Sansa was lost to him forever and she would not go through that hell again, no matter what he had to do to keep her with him. Including watching her like a hawk so she didn't pull a stunt like she did after the family dinner.

She now shared his bed. He had wanted her there for so long, blocked by their siblings living with them. Arya had been the holdout but it has been almost a year now since she moved in with Gendry. Now there was no one to stand in their way. They didn't need to be careful when sequestered in their home, and it was intoxicating. Their previous discreet encounters in the gazebo in the gardens were replaced by heated couplings in every room in the house, now that it was cold and the snow was starting to fall. He could not get enough of her skin, her touch, her sounds, and her scent. They didn't even bother most of the time with getting dressed; at most Robb wore lounge pants and Sansa cavorted in his t-shirts. Perversely he thought she was even more sexy when she was wearing them, rather than the black silk nighties or white satin chemises, even though she looked delectable in those as well. There was just something about her wearing something of his that made him desire her even more.

Of course he knew they couldn't go on like this forever. He had a business conference in Dorne scheduled just before Christmas. He was going in Jon's place, after much begging from his cousin; Jon never could do well with corporate presentations and conferences, and that was one of the reasons why Robb stayed on the board. Sansa also had to prepare for her next line release. Still, there was time to savor the temporary solidarity before he left.

Hazily he thought about their future. Money wasn't an issue. With their inheritance, investments in the company, and their savings, they could easily live the rest of their lives in comfort. Why shouldn't they just sell the estate and he could resign from the company completely; they could just leave and head for some place where no one knew them, just leave everything behind. Who really needed them here anyway? Arya had Gendry, Bran had Meera and their son, Jon had Winterfell Estate and the business. Robb would gladly leave everything behind without a second thought, even after the years he spent holding the family together. _But would Sansa_ ?

He broke his thoughts when his phone vibrated from the nightstand, Instead of turning away from Sansa to reach it, he squeezed his eyes shut and buried his face deeper into her neck. She smelled like the bath soap he used to wash her the last time they were in the shower together.

Sansa jerked forward a bit and muttered unintelligible words. She was still fast asleep. A low whimper escaped and Robb wondered if he should wake her. Then he heard her murmurs.

" _Why...why...please don't...like fire...burns...how can you..._ "

"Sansa?" Hesitantly, he touched her shoulder.

" _Why? Why are you hurting me? Not this way, not this way_ -"

"SANSA."

She moved over onto her back as he scooted away from her to give her some space. Her eyes fluttered opened. Her dream - or nightmare - didn't seem to register with her as she looked sleepily at him with soft eyes.

"So... _handsome_..." she whispered.

He swallowed as she touched him lightly on his beard. He reached down to hold her hand when she suddenly winced and grabbed her stomach.

"Sansa?"

"Robb, I don't feel - I -"

His hand flew to her flat, taut stomach, pushing her hands out of the way.

"Sansa, love, what's wrong?"

"I - _Oh_ !"

With her free hand she reached down between her legs. For only a second he saw her bring her fingers up, coated in red. Before he could say anything she was up and out of bed, ducking her head as if she was embarrassed, running out of his room and into the main bathroom. He heard the door slam and for the first time in weeks he didn't follow her to make sure she wasn't trying anything questionable.

Relief and another emotion he fought flooded him. He wasn't sure why she was so shy about it. Of course it had to happen, didn't it? They had been making love for weeks without interruption and he hadn't given much thought to it. All he had concentrated on was the pure euphoria of being inside of her. Like a man thirsting, he drank from the well now as much as he was able. Her body was the only sanctuary he knew and would ever know. Heaven and hell did not exist. Nothing existed for him or mattered to him but his possession of her and her possession of him.

He resisted so long in fully making love to her out of guilt, as if somehow he could win absolution for all he's done by denying himself completion. Now there ceased to be any sense of a sin committed against some god or society or against her or himself. It wasn't a debasement or a sick mindset; every time he took her, no matter how he took her, it was in love, with added lust, desperation, hope, and even sorrow. And now, he can't even bring himself to feel shame over the fact that he was disappointed that she bled.

He figured he would be sleeping alone tonight, and the thought displeased him. He heard the bathroom door open and then the door to her own room shut. He intended to go to her and tell her he still wanted her to sleep with him, period or not. Tampons or pads didn't bother him. He wanted - _no, needed_ \- her warmth surrounding him. But instead he reached for his phone to check it.

_Arya_.

His head started to throb.

No text, but a voicemail stating she wanted to talk to him.

Sighing, he laid on his back, phone to ear. It only rang once.

"Hey, Robb." She sounded a little contrite. _As she should_.

"Hey Arry. What's going on?"

"Well, I haven't heard from you for a week or two -"

_Three_ , thought Robb. _Three glorious weeks of nothing but Sansa_.

" - and I do feel really bad for upsetting Sansa at dinner."

"She's better. Just keep your distance a little while longer." _So I can keep sticking my cock in our sister_.

"Robb, I just want you to know, I love you guys. I do. I just can't rest until I find out who did this. I know I'm not a professional, but I want to do my best to get justice. Maybe I'll never know, maybe I'll never find out, but I have to try."

He closed his eyes. A chill ran down his spine at her insistence.

"You sound determined.That's admirable."

"I _am_ determined! I've started to write down any possible suspects based on who has been at our house on a regular enough basis. Unfortunately it's a lot of fucking people. I also want to narrow it down by people who have rented our cabin out and know the layout. That narrows it down. I was hoping you can see if there are any records of the times they've rented it."

"That's pretty far back , Arya. We don't even keep tax records that long."

"But Dad was so meticulous about record keeping. Surely there's something somewhere. I'm calling Jon tomorrow to see if he can help me."

It seemed as if she held an accusatory tone with that last part. Robb strained his ear for signs of Sansa. It was quiet. She probably went to bed.

"Robb, I also want to go back up there."

The chill turned to a shudder and he felt it in the pit of his stomach.

"Why, Arya? We had the cabin torn down after the case went cold."

"I don't know. Maybe going back there will make me feel closer to it all or something. I mean, we did have a memorial built there."

"I hope you don't expect us to come with you, not with Sansa so fragile -"

"No, I'll take Jon. Although I know you and Sansa haven't been there since it was erected."

_Another accusatory statement_.

"Is there anything I can do?" It was a question he didn't feel like asking.

"Besides checking into any records? Yeah, maybe."

"What then?" He was over this conversation already.

"Can you tell Sansa I'm sorry? I've tried to text her and she's ignoring me. I'd like to talk to her. I mean, it's like you guys went AWOL or something. You're not catching her reclusive bug, are you?"

"No."

"I worry about you, Robb. You've always taken on so much. When's the last time you went out on a date? Like a real one-on-one date with a woman?"

"Not sure." He didn't feel like discussing his love life with his baby sister.

"Well, we are gonna have to fix that. Don't you think it's time to live a little?"

"I did that in college, didn't I?" He tried to joke even as his jaw clenched.

"Whatever. I want to see you happy, Robb, and I don't think you're happy with the...current state of affairs."

He said nothing. All he could think of was how blissfully happy he really was with the current state of his affair with Sansa. 

"It's okay, bro. One step at a time. I guess getting Sansa to a happier place is more important, right? Have you thought about getting her a shrink? You know, to talk her shit out?"

"Sansa won't do it and I can't make her." That was true.

"She listens to you, Robb. TRY."

"Ok, I will bring it up to her sometime. Is that good?" Hell, he was tired of this conversation before it even started.

"Yeah. I don't want to keep you. But I want to make sure we are good. I don't like fighting with you."'

They said their goodbyes and Robb turned off his phone. He'd had enough for awhile. He thew it on the nightstand with too much force and it skittered off onto the floor. Moving out of bed to find his boxers and pulling them on, he ran his fingers through his messed-up hair.

_He needed Sansa_. 

His head was pounding and the eerie feeling wouldn't leave the back of his neck or his stomach. Long strides took him to her closed door. He knocked respectfully, softly. He heard her give permission to enter so he walked in. She was lying in a fetal position under the blankets. He crept into her bed to spoon her from behind, lying on top of the blankets.

"Sansa," he whispered. "Why didn't you come back to bed?"

"You _know_ why."

"Sansa, my love, you should know that doesn't matter to me. It's a natural body function and really has nothing to do with sleeping in the same bed." He paused before allowing some insecurity to show through."Are you starting to regret us?"

"Robb, I started my period in your bed and you saw it. _You saw it_."

"I've seen blood before."

"Not mine."

He leaned forward into her ear and felt her shiver.

"This talk is silly. Please come back to bed. Or, if you won't, let me stay here."

She whimpered, then moved to grab his arm.

"Can you put your hand on my lower stomach? The cramping is bad and I know your hands are always nice and warm."

For Robb, that was a _yes, please stay_.

He lifted the covers to join her underneath them, easily sliding his body against hers, and his hand found her lower abdomen, cupping her there, grazing the top of her panties. He felt himself growing hard just by the feel of her skin and his body pressing against her.

"I need you." He heard himself whispering the words when he meant to stay silent. "Sansa, _I need you_."

She turned to face him on her back, his hand still on her stomach. Her eyes, so luminous, stared into him.

"Robb - I can -" She traced her fingers down to his boxers, reaching in to grasp him.

"No." He reached down, removing her hand.

He kissed her then, soft and smooth and full of longing. He never tired of kissing her, feeling her tongue mating with his. He gently bit her lower lip. Leaving her mouth, he traveled down to her neck, then to her breasts as she wove her fingers through his hair, panting as he licked and sucked her nipples. He was thankful she wore nothing to bed but her underwear.

"I love when you do that to me, Sansa, but it's not what I love the _most_ ," he whispered into the valley between her breasts, his mouth moving down to her navel. His blood was racing, his heart was pounding, his cock was throbbing with want. _Need_. He felt her grip tighten in his curls, pulling upward instead of down.

"Christ, Robb," she whimpered. "Don't tease me. I can't do anything!"

"You're right. You can't do anything. You're pretty helpless right now, aren't you?" He grinned up at her as she looked down at him in confusion, her breath raspy. His heart was beating hard against his chest and there was a strange humming racing through his brain. 

He slid her panties off quickly before she could whisper a protest. He felt her tense.

"Don't stop me, my love. I want to . Besides, I know what can ease those cramps of yours." He smiled devilishly up at her.

"Robb, no. You _cant_ ! It's so- so -"

He looked down at her, taking in her neatly trimmed pussy, the delicate folds...and the string hanging from her center. Interesting. He'd always seen tampons in the house but never actually saw it inside a woman before. It didn't deter him, rather, it made him more determined.

"It's so... _what_ , Sansa?" His tongue found her folds, delving into the crevices. He heard her moan. Her sweet pussy seemed ultra sensitive to his licks; she was already swollen. He easily found her clit, flicking it while his hand reached between her legs to the string. He felt her tense up even more and yank at his hair. It hurt his scalp and he loved it.

"It's so dirty! Messy...so _messy_ !"

"I don't think so, Sansa," his words were muffled. " _Nothing_ about your sweet cunt is dirty." The word fell out. He had never talked this way before, never used that crass word before. He paused but when she whimpered at what he said and pushed down on his head, he knew he had her.

Taking hold of the string with his thumb and index finger, he slowly pulled.

"Robb, no! What about the sheets? The _sheets_ , Robb!" 

Her protests were weak. He laughed against her as he very slowly removed the tampon and tossed it to the floor with her panties.

"Sheets wash, love, and so do we."

The smell of her blood intermingled with her secretions. He could see some red. He just didn't care. He continued licking, sucking. It was a whole new taste to him and it was nothing like sucking a finger after a cut. And, besides... _it was Sansa _. _Her_ blood. _Hers_. He slipped two fingers inside, making a wet noise as he did, and began gently moving them in and out. She was so swollen and hot and completely slippery on the inside. Between the feeling on his fingers and against his mouth and tongue he was losing his mind. She was raising up into him, moaning out something like a strangled sob, all hesitations and inhibitions forgotten. He made one slow, massive lick upwards to suck hard around her nub before nipping lightly with his teeth and moving away to look up at her.__

____

"You have a choice, Sansa." He raised his head up, his fingers still lazily working her. "How do you want to cum? With my mouth on your pretty cunt, or my cock buried inside you?"

____

She only whimpered, so he licked her again; long, hard, and slow. She cried out, locking eyes with him, gazing at him with want.

____

" _Answer me_."

____

"I - I want you inside me -"

____

That was all he needed. He withdrew his reddened, wet fingers and stood off of the bed to take off his boxers before climbing back in and gathering her in his arms. He pushed into her as slow as he could while she snaked her arms and legs around him. So silky smooth, so wet and hot for him, it was driving him insane. His thrusts were slow, deliberate, as he reached down between them to find her clit, rubbing in furious circles. She was already so close from the sensitivity; she peaked quickly and cried out, her nails dragging down his back, her walls constricting around him. He felt the sting from her fingers drawing blood and it spurred his own release as he came with a strangled moan.

____

He looked down at her, her arms and legs still clinging to him like vines. He wanted to kiss her but thought better of it; it was one thing to kiss her with the taste of her secretions on her lips, it was quite another to kiss her with the taste of menstrual blood.

____

She lay quiet underneath him, looking up into his eyes. He smiled. He loved how her lips flushed a darker pink and a blush always formed across her cheeks after she orgasmed.

____

"How are your pains, love?"

____

Her eyebrows raised and a small, satisfied smirk formed.

____

"Actually...they aren't as bad."

____

"See? Well, then, I guess that you will be going back to bed with me tonight. I mean, after we shower. These sheets need cleaned and I am too uninterested to change them right now."

____

She smiled, closing her eyes.

____

"No, no, Sansa. We can't do that just yet. First things first."

____

He pulled out of her regrettably and scooped her up into his arms. She ducked her face into his neck, and he guessed she was still embarrassed.

____

"Never be ashamed of what two people do when they love each other, Sansa," he whispered, pressing his lips to her head. " _Never_."

____

He carried her to the shower.

____


	21. Strange Bedfellows

"So are we _done_ with punishing her enough yet? Because I'm fucking bored of this and want to hit the bar."

Joffrey Baratheon barely suppressed a yawn while pulling on his jeans and buckling his belt in short, snappy movements. His green eyes narrowed at the scene on the bed he had just left. Myranda was on her hands and knees, his recently-spent cum dribbling out of the side of her mouth; she flicked a long tongue over it to catch as much as she could while she moaned, her eyes squeezed shut. The black dog collar around her neck strained, jerking her head back as a naked Ramsay Bolton grabbed it with both hands while pounding ferociously into her ass. It wasn't much of a turn-on now that he was losing his hard-on after ejaculating into Myranda's hot, willing mouth.

"I'm _not_ fucking done. I'm going to fuck her as long as I can. I'm gonna fuck this bitch 'till she _bleeds_ ," Ramsay snarled in hard breaths.

As if to prove the point, Ramsay shoved her brutally to the bed and her legs gave out. Her face smashed into the pillows, she moaned and shrieked at the same time while he fucked her ass even harder. Joff was slightly amused; if she was able to shit right in a week she'd be lucky. Ramsay had shoved his dick into her dry. Not that Myranda seemed to mind it too much.

Putting on his sneakers and buttoning his shirt, Joff looked around for his keys. Ramsay's apartment was so fucking dark and dingy the rats probably took off with them. He didn't know why he kept hanging out with Ramsay and his little whore, except that they were even more twisted and fucked up than he was, and even if they didn't have any money or influence behind their names it was kind of fun to roll around in the dregs with them every now and then. Sometimes he got bored and hung out with Theon instead. Theon wasn't into the major freaky ass shit, besides the one time he let Myranda suck his cock while Joff fucked her from behind, but he was a fun drunk at least. Ramsay got too fucking violent after he had one too many.

Like the night a couple of months ago at the Stag Pub where they had a small altercation with Robb Fucking Stark and his geezer Uncle and his other pussy Uncle.

He had to admit Brynden threw punches like a fucking twenty-something. While he was quick enough to avoid Brynden, he caught Robb's left hook in the jaw. Ramsay later scoffed at him for staying down on the floor but Joff felt at the time his face was worth more than his pride. Ramsay seemed to like getting fucked up by that old fucker Brynden, like he was literally getting off on it or something. While Joff was amused at other people's pain he wasn't a fan of receiving it, and he couldn't quite grasp Ramsay's masochistic tendencies. Joff supposed the whole brawl was his own fault. After all, he made a lewd comment to Robb about his sister. Well, who really cared anyway? He didn't say anything that wasn't true; she _did_ suck his cock like a pro in high school.

He had been feeling brave under the influence. He always hated Robb. Fucking straight-A student, star quarterback, with movie-star looks and a body to match, fucking the cheerleaders and hanging out with the most popular people, including his own sister. Especially his own sister. If all of that wasn't bad enough, he was even more the golden boy in college. Nothing could bring down the golden boy that was Robb Stark. Well, except the murders and Sansa being so fucked up about it. It didn't deter the fucker from expanding his old man's empire and taking down Joff's maternal grandfather's business. He always suspected that cunt move was because he hated the fact the he had dated Sansa. She fucking turned out to be the ice princess he always thought she was. Her mouth was good enough to fuck but she guarded that red-haired snatch like it was some fucking prize. He thought growing up together as friends of the family would have at least earned him one shot at her pussy. 

The next yawn he didn't suppress.

Time was ticking and Ramsay was taking too long. Joff found his keys; they had fallen from the dresser where he tried to toss them when Myranda was yanking his jeans off. One thing he knew, she was far better at sucking dick than Sansa ever was.

He looked back at them on the bed. He could see the sweat dripping from Ramsay's dark hair; his ice-blue eyes were shut and a sneer was plastered on his face. Joff wondered if he himself looked so sinister when he was ready to explode. That might explain why women seemed terrified and ran away from him after they fucked.

Joff watched as Myranda's collar got a harsh tug, so hard she made a choking noise and was brought back up on her hands and knees. She shoved one hand between her legs to find her clit while the other shook to keep her up against the brutal thrusts that squeaked the bedframe.

"You fucking _bitch_ !" Ramsay grunted. "You still wanna fuck _Robb Stark_ , you whore??"

A strangled laugh and cry emitted from her. Joff started getting hard at the sound and look of her strangling. Ramsay pushed his face down to hers, leaning on her back.

"What was that, slut?"

"Y-y-yes, I _still_ want to fuck him!"

"Wrong answer, you little cunt!"

He pushed her back into the bed while her fingers still worked underneath her. He grabbed her long hair - dyed red - by the handfuls, slamming madly into her.

"Goddamn Ramsay, get the fuck off so we can _go_."

As if on cue, Ramsay dug his nails into her skin, drawing blood all the way down, withdrew his cock suddenly from her anus and came all over her ass. The brutal pulling away made Myranda scream, followed by her own orgasm. Joff saw the bleeding streaks on her back; damn he needed to trim those nails. Ramsay reached down to grab her discarded skirt and wiped his dick off on it so quickly that Joff couldn't see if her really did fuck her till she bled. He was up and dressed in about two minutes flat, as if he didn't just fuck someone in the ass for almost an entire hour. Myranda didn't move.

"C'mon, let's go." Ramsay grinned.

"What about me? Do I at least get a goodbye?" Her words were raspy.

Ramsay strolled over to her, leaned down, and licked at the blood on her back. 

"See you later tonight, my pet."

Joff caught a lazy, satisfied smile on her face before she turned into the pillow. _Strange bitch_.

"Where are we headed?" 

Ramsay slipped into his jacket, and they walked out and down the flight of steps to Joff's car. Joff put on his driving gloves and hopped into the driver's seat of his '62 Vette, a present from his father for his twenty-seventh birthday.

"Stag Pub?" Joff tried to be assertive but it came out as a question.

"I don't know..."

"Fuck man, Robb Stark hasn't been seen or heard from since his accident. He isn't going to be there."

"Fuck if he was?" Ramsay lit a cigarette.

Joff started the car and pulled out of the lot.

"Why do you keep working for the Starks if you hate them? Hell, my dad could use a new trainer and groundskeeper."

"I won't work for Robert Baratheon. And I'm working for _Jon_ , not the Starks. The money is good. Jon pays me quite nicely to keep his dogs and horses and lawns under control. And I've gotten to know a lot more about the Starks since I've worked there."

"If the money is good, why do you live in a fucking rat hole?"

"Low profile." Ramsay grinned again before taking a drag.

"Text Theon, see if he wants to meet us there."

Amazingly, Ramsay did as he was told. He flicked his cig ashes out the window before taking a long puff and flicking again. Joff wasn't one for smoking in the car but he knew better than to say anything. Joff had a cruel streak but when Ramsay was tested he was far worse. And that was saying a lot.

"Hatred makes such...strange bedfellows," he drawled, grinning madly into the night.

Joff agreed, but silently.


	22. Killers and Dates

"I'm sorry, I'm not much help, Arya."

Jon slumped over his desk in the study at Winterfell Estate, defeated. He and Arya had been pouring over records, both electronic and paper, all day. She had arrived at 6 am, which didn't bother Jon too much since he rarely slept in, but trying to humor Arya and looking at documents for twelve hours straight was daunting.

Arya sat cross-legged on the floor in front of him. She had a small stack neatly organized into folders of the records Ned had kept on the cabin rentals. She was fairly disgruntled with what she had: no surprises on who used their getaway spot; the usual suspects of the Baratheons, Lannisters, Greyjoys, Tyrells, Martells, and Tullys. A few business associates. That was it.

"It's fine, Jon. I just appreciate the help. I think Gendry is getting sick of my shit, and I guess I can't blame him, but he doesn't even want to support me anymore. Plus he's so distracting with, you know, his rabid sex appeal and perfect muscle tone."

"Nice to know I hold no sex appeal for you, Arya." He chucked a little, running fingers through his loose curls, trying to hide the fact that the thought of Gendry and Arya having sex disturbed him a little.

"Well, you are very handsome in a very broody. dark kind of way, but who do you take me for, Jaime Lannister?" She said it sarcastically but softly.

"I never took you for a gossip, Arya." Her compliment made him blush unexpectedly. There is no proof for that-"

"Yeah, _whatever_. I honestly don't care. If that's what rocks their freak boat, and they are happy, then so what. Besides, I think Jaime has a thing for Sansa, like a weird May-December thing. Though it's not like Sansa's been dating, like, ever. Even someone like Jaime might do her some good at this point."

For the first time today she at least was talking about something other than finding the killer, or killers. Jon thought her theory of Lady was a good one, but Arya was no detective or private investigator. He suggested calling Peter Baelish, but she nipped that in the bud pretty quick. Peter may be related only by marriage, but Arya was vocal about not having more family involved. So it really was just him and Arya. Gendry was shying away from it, Bran was busy with the new baby, Sansa wasn't approached for obvious reasons, and Robb had given them what little records he had at his house but offered no additonal help. He thought he understood Robb's reluctance when he saw the fanatical glint in Arya's dark grey eyes. She was eating, breathing, and sleeping this and it was starting to bother him. He wanted to remind her that no one was able to solve the murder, it was now a cold case, as why did she think she could succeed where professionals had failed? But his love of her stopped him from discouraging her. He was closer to her than the rest of the family and he he didn't want to deter her from something she had so much passion about. He wished he had half her passion about anything.

"I don't think Jaime is her type." He pushed back his chair to lounge better in it. "It isn't about age, either."

"Since when do you know what Sansa's type is? You spend a week hanging out with her after you give her a smooch and you now think you know what type of dude she likes?"

Panicked and shocked, he met her knowing smirk and sparking eyes.

"Yeah, I knew. So what. She was buzzed. It's not like it _meant anything_ , right?" Arya looked away from him, concentrating instead on staring down at the file folders like they were the most interesting things in the world. He thought he detected something different in her voice.

"I didn't know you were so concerned over your sister's dating activities," he floundered. He hadn't wanted Arya to ever find out about that damnable kiss. "I didn't think you cared so much."

"Well, now that I am all set to be a traditional married woman, why wouldn't I want my sister to follow suit, and Robb too? I just want to see them happy. Maybe they don't think I do, but I think they deserve fun. I'm not saying they have to find their soulmates, but it's nice to think of them eventually living normal lives."

Jon reflected on that for a moment, suddenly seeing Arya in a new light. There was a tenderness in her he never saw her display towards Sansa. Arya continued on.

"I know Sansa and I have our differences. I mean, even our preferences in relatives is different. I always liked hanging out and spending time with you the best. You are the one I share all the good stuff with."

Jon smiled; beamed, really. Arya might seem tough as nails but he knew she had an honest heart, and her affections weren't easily won.Of course she loved her family, but he was the only one she trusted enough with all her secrets and dreams. In turn, she was his closest confidant. She was the only one he truly trusted.

"Besides, Robb never had much time for me anyway. For him it was always about Sansa, even as kids. Like they were joined at the hip or something."

He caught the wistful tone, the sadness in it, and realized for the first time that Arya might actually be resentful or jealous of her siblings' obvious closeness. Everyone knew Robb and Sansa were close, even before the murders happened. In high school, Jon remembered Sansa joining cheerleading only because Robb was on the football team. Or how they would always sit together at family gatherings and keep to themselves. At times Jon thought they even completely disregarded their own parents when they were together; it was a Robb and Sansa world that no one could enter. Maybe it wasn't so healthy after all. He suddenly recalled the look Robb gave him when he left Winterfell and Sansa stayed on and a cold, prickly sensation settled on the back of his neck.

"I'm sorry, Arya," he said softly, tenderly. "You know, maybe you could hang out with Robb sometime without Sansa around, some one-on-one bro and sis time, you know?"

She ignored his suggestion.

"Sansa hasn't had a boyfriend since Joffrey the creep. Maybe if we got her to go out on an actual date she might be human again. Robb, too. He hasn't been with anyone except Marg in high school and Jeyne in college. Now that Bran and I are grown, he can concentrate on getting a social life again." Her brow puckered for a moment. "So, Robb and Gendry are leaving for Dorne in a few weeks?"

"Yes, Robb was generous by agreeing to go in my place. Gendry and Davos are also going because the experience will do them some good. Well, that and they will get quite a bit of use out of the sandy warm beaches, I am sure." He looked at her, silently questioning.

"Then that is the perfect time to get Sansa out to live a little, wouldn't you agree?"

"And what you have us do," he chuckled nervously,"Kidnap her and drag her out to a bar?"

"We could call Jaime Lannister."

" _Arya_ !"

"Well? He's not like the rest of his sorry-ass family, is he? He gave her flowers and she has his number; that's enough for dating material if you ask me. Maybe we could have them meet somewhere for dinner with his? So she at least has us for crutches for awhile."

"So you are bent now on finding a killer and hooking your sister up?"

"Damn skippy! Now that I've got Gendry bound and gagged and chained to me forever, might as well get some new hobbies."

"Well, why don't you let me talk to her?" He paused. "I love you, Arya, but you don't possess tact." He hesitated at the last part, half-expecting her to throw some files at him, but instead she nodded her head and shrugged her shoulders.

"Fine. She'll probably listen to you better anyway; she would instantly shut me down. Especially after the family dinner."

He couldn't deny that so he said nothing. He felt if he said anything right now, his feelings would show and she would mock him. He wanted to see Sansa again. He missed her, craved her company, wanted to hear her laughter and see her smile. He remembered their kiss. He imagined his dream...no, dreams meant nothing, no matter how real it felt...it was just a dream. Reality was more uncertain. And bleak.

Arya's voice cut through Jon's dreamy silence.

"Okay, well, are you fine with stopping for now? I thank you for all you've done but my stomach is growling. It's suppertime and I could eat a cow."

Jon smiled. Typical Arya. 

"Sure. Killers and dates can wait. Let's eat."


	23. Dinner And A Show

Sansa sat at the round, elegant table. To her right was Jon, to her left was Jaime, and if she chose to look straight ahead - which she didn't - she could stare at Arya's face.

She felt annoyed, desolate, and tricked.

_She just wanted Robb_.

It was day three of his conference. Two more and he would finally be home. She thought she wouldn't mind his leaving, rationalizing that she spent a week in Winterfell without him and did just fine. But that was before she had the opportunity to enjoy him fully as a lover, before she could fall asleep in his arms and then wake up to his groggy but smiling face, before she found out exactly what the missing piece was from her life. The first night he was gone she laid in his bed and cried. She could smell him on the sheets and on her (his) t-shirt, and his seed was still lightly leaking from her (due to a last minute, up-against-the-wall sex just before he left). It wasn't enough and she barely slept at all, checking her phone obsessively for his messages. She talked to him before bed but not as long or as intimately as she wanted; Gendry had been with him at the time.

Why she agreed to this dinner was beyond her. Maybe it was because Jon asked so sweetly; maybe it was to try to make nice with her sister; maybe it was because she feared everyone was becoming suspicious as to why the two eldest Starks hadn't left their home in weeks. For Sansa, staying in was the status quo, but for Robb it probably raised some questions as well as eyebrows. Whatever her reasoning, she drove up to Winterfell where Arya was already staying, and they all ended up meeting Jaime Lannister for dinner.

She could smell a fix-up instantly but she really didn't care. Jaime was a good-looking, intelligent, mature man and he made witty conversation. She reflected that perhaps if there was no Robb, she might even date him. But there was a Robb, there has always been a Robb, and now Robb was hers in every sense, and she would not give that up even if her life depended on it.

Looking at Jaime and sweetly smiling, she tried to be attentive but her thoughts kept wandering as the wine kept coming. She ate very little but no one seemed to notice. Jon, however, seemed like he was taking stock of the wine consumption.

"Sansa, are you sure you should be having another glass?" He looked at her, his dark eyes settling on her almost emptied glass. He was dressed nicely tonight in a white buttoned shirt and black pants. Jon always had to wear something black. She had matched his colors by wearing a sensible black dress with knotted pearls that Robb had given her. For some reason his question and tone annoyed her.

"You sound like _Robb_ , Jon. I'm fine." 

Admonished, Jon looked over to Arya for some guidance.

Arya actually looked demure in a simple blue sheath dress, her hair curled and swept up. Oddly enough she matched Jaime's blue shirt. Sansa had to admit, her sister was really very pretty when she decided to look like a lady instead of a hooligan. Arya raised her thick, shapely eyebrows at Jon with something like amusement before leaning towards Jaime.

"So, Jaime, Myrcella's birthday is coming up. Is she planning a party? I haven't talked to her lately."

Jaime flashed his winning smile and started talking about his adored niece. It was evident Jaime had a great love for her and his nephew Tommen, and why wouldn't he? Both were so sweet, and beautiful, and had manners that seemed to be lost on their older brother Joffrey. Immediately Sansa tried to float her thoughts away from Joff. No need to make a bad mood worse. She drained her third glass of wine under Jon's disapproving gaze. Or was it her fourth? 

She was tired. It was probably the wine making her eyelids droop, but the again being around Arya for any length of time was exhausting. She would have liked it far better if it was just her and Jaime. Or her and Jon. Or her and Robb. She wondered what it would be like to go out to a romantic dinner with Robb, to be able to hold hands and steal kisses and not have to worry about who would see them. They would never have that. _Never_.

The panic and trepidation that she hadn't felt since the razor in the the shower incident started rearing it's ugly head. She really didn't want to be here. She wanted to be home in Robb's bed, in his arms, listening to him recite poetry while she circled her fingers in his chest hair. She wondered what Robb would think of this dinner date. She didn't think he would be amused, but she wasn't amused either. Still, she laughed and made conversation, even mildly flirting with Jaime and joking with Jon. Arya she was cautiously polite to; she seemed to be making an effort so she would, too.

The warmth of the wine spread through her body. She thought about her phone and wondered if Robb had sent any messages to her. She hoped she could call him after dinner where she will finally be alone. In her room. Naked. Listening to his voice, maybe even indulging in a little sexy phone sex...

"Sansa?" Jon's voice cut through her hazy thoughts.

"Hmmm?" Things were getting a little too fuzzy. Jon's features suddenly seemed to have no lines or definition.

"I think Sansa is ready to retire for the evening," Jaime drawled, clearly amused. "It's been a lovely dinner. I appreciate the invite to share it with my favorite Starks."

Sansa was vaguely aware of Jaime's offered arm, which she gratefully took to walk to Jon's car. He opened the door for her and kissed the top of her hand along the knuckles. He thanked her again and she thanked him as well, and asked him to call her so that maybe they could do this again without Jon or Arya. His eyes glittered with interest and he readily agreed.

"Damn it, Sansa, I called shotgun and you ignored me. Maybe I should drive and Jon can sit it the back. I only had one glass of wine, but you guys drained a bottle and a half."

Shotgun.

_Gun_.

_Two clean shots. Close range. Between the eyes_.

Her emotions froze. Did she ever really care? At the end of the day, did she truly care about anything but Robb? _Robb...she needed Robb_...

"Sansa?"

"Hmmm."

"Do I have to put you to bed for a second time? Can you make it on your own?"

They were inside the house now. What happened to the ride home? Has she passed out? Or did she just not remember the long drive from town? At any rate, Arya sauntered off to the living room and Jon was standing by her at the foot of the stairs. It reminded her of the party. Jon was another one who would think she was a lush.

"I - I think I need a little bit of help, please."

Yes,she needed help. Her purse felt like a ton of bricks and her shoes were annoying so she kicked them off. She hated shoes. Her hands flew around her neck to curl around the pearls as Jon carefully led her upstairs to her room. She made it to the bed, crawling into it gratefully after tossing her purse onto the floor. She took in the scent of her pillow and frowned. It smelled like Tide or Downy. She wanted _Robb's_ scent. She wanted to be in their home, in their room. This was no longer home to her. But here she was.

She saw Jon turning to leave. Such a good, decent man. Honorable. _Pure_.

"Jon?"

He turned in the doorway, his head tilted down, and made his way over to her to stand hesitantly by the side of the bed.

"Yes?" 

"I'm sorry I drank too much wine tonight." _What was she doing_ ? 

He sat down next to her, taking her hands in his. She immediately sat up but he still wouldn't look at her as he sighed, squeezing her hands.

"It's fine, Sansa. Arya and I just thought it would be good to get you out and about. We worry about you. I know you don't think Arya cares, but she really does. She just wants you to be happy."

Of course he was defending Arya. He always did. All their lives, he was Arya's staunchest supporter. The thought annoyed her.

"What if -" she found her words quickly - "My happiness would make her unhappy?"

Jon looked at her then, his dark eyes puzzled.

"Why would Arya ever be unhappy with your happiness?"

"She would be. She just would."

"You're not giving her enough credit, Sansa."

She supposed she wasn't. Still, how does someone tell their sister that she is in love with their brother? That she is sleeping with him? That he is her soulmate? Even the best sister relationship wouldn't survive that, and their own relationship was rocky at best.

"Jon, you would be unhappy with my happiness, too." He would. Perfect Jon would completely flip if he ever knew.

"Sansa, get some sleep. I would love for you to have your happiness. You are talking nonsense. I'll excuse it as the wine."

Something like anger instantly flamed in her. Jon, too sincere and untainted and good. He probably had not one deceitful or abnormal bone in his body. Most of her life she immaturely treated him like dirt beneath her feet and he still cared about her happiness. Good little Jon. But maybe not so good.

"Jon." She licked her lips, gaining courage through her resentment. "We never talked about what happened at the party." 

At her words he withdrew his hands and sighed, looking down.

"There's _nothing_ to talk about, Sansa. We are both tipsy from the wine and need to let it be. Get some sleep."

"No. Jon, wait." Her hands found and cupped his face. She saw him flinch when she ran her fingers over his stubble and his hands grasped her wrists tightly, trying to move them away.

"Sansa, _go to sleep_." She could smell the wine on his breath as he exhaled.

" _No_. I want to talk about it." She stared at him, her head swimming a bit. 

He was struggling internally, she could tell. A flicker went through her mind. _Marg. Jeyne_. Robb fucked them both even while professing love for her, declaring he only loved her. She never let another man fuck her. Not even Joff, who had been her boyfriend. Jon was here, he was warm and sweet and she knew that look in his dark eyes. She had seen that same look in Robb's eyes. Robb was not here. He could be here but he was not. Jon was here, warm and close, and she was lonely.

"Fine. What about it, Sansa?" He whispered it, visibly swallowing.

"Was it a mistake?" She gripped his face, pulling him close to her. She was so close she could smell the wine and steak he had for supper; it wasn't a bad smell, really, and he also smelled like soap."Was it wrong?"

"It was a _moment_ , that's all."

"A moment?"

"Sansa, _try to get some sleep_." He swallowed again, not moving.

"Jon, what if I told you it made me happy to kiss you? Or that your kiss brought me the happiness I needed?" She was thinking of Robb. Without that kiss to inflame his jealousy, he never would have fucked her. He would have never opened that floodgate. He would have been content to give her an empty pleasure for as long as she let him. Jealousy. _Maybe Robb would really know now how it feels_...

"Sansa." His voice gained strength. "We are not doing this -"

She cut any further words off by pressing her lips to his; he resisted and she pressed harder, opening his mouth for her tongue. He was warm and sweet and even as he struggled he was kissing her back. Her hands moved to his hair to release it from the tie that held it back. His curls almost felt like Robb's, but much longer. They were alike in so many ways. She wondered if they were alike in other ways, too.

"Please Jon," she whispered between kisses, "I just want to be happy tonight."

He wrenched away from her, his breath heavy. Something like guilt flashed over his handsome face.

"Arya. Arya is just downstairs, she's -"

"In the living room. She won't come up here. _Please_ , Jon -" Her hands traveled to his lap and found his cock already hard. He wanted her. His body was more than willing to fuck her but he was trying to be honorable. How sweet.

"Sansa -"

She leaned into him to whisper in his ear, the wine making her bold.

"Don't tell me to stop."

He pulled her close then, crushing her to him clumsily and kissing her hungrily as if he had been restraining himself for an eternity. He had none of Robb's grace or sensuality but it felt good. She moved closer, pulling her to him by his hair. As his lips sought hers she moved to unbutton his shirt feverishly, exposing his toned, hairless chest. She fiddled with his belt and unzipped him while he broke the kissing to lick down her neck, leaving a wet trail against her cooling skin. It felt surreal, different. The warmth of the wine and the pleasure shot through her and she didn't bother trying to repress a whimper.

His hands reached up behind her to find the zipper on her dress; the unzipping amplified in her ears. Jon was undressing her. She had never been completely naked for a man other than Robb. She raised her arms so he could rid her of her dress. Her pearls gifted from Robb felt oddly cool against her bare skin. Oh. _Robb. Robb_. No. She was trying to block out her brother as Jon unclasped her bra. Was this really happening? Was it Jon who was tenderly palming and kissing her breasts? Was she really feeling his hot breath around her nipples? He nudged her on her back, settling over her, kissing down to her stomach, hoarsely saying her name over and over -

So much for the _honorable_ Jon. Well, he could blame the wine tomorrow.

She fisted his hair, pushing him further down, and she felt her panties being slid off off. Her eyes screwed shut as a panic bubble formed in her chest. She concentrated on the darkness behind her eyelids until she felt his tongue lick her center. _Robb. Robb, why aren't you here. This should be you. This shouldn't be me here. Oh, god, it feels good_.

She was shocked at the feeling of his tongue swirling his lips sucking furiously, nothing familiar about this. She could already feel herself starting to peak despite the wine; she was on a high from the knowledge she broke him down so easily. He wanted her or else he would not have his head between her legs. She pressed him into her, bucking her hips upward, gyrating against his mouth, seeking her release through the guilt and the pleasure. She bit her lip so hard it bled to prevent from crying out as she came in a crashing wave. He sucked and licked into her even harder through her release...

Without a word, as she came down from the thrill he pulled away and moved up to take her in his arms. His embrace felt strange and her guilt increased. She tried to push it down.

"Sansa. I -"

She cut him off by reaching down to push his pants down along with his boxers.

"Fuck me, Jon." It was a command.

He stilled against her and she refused to meet his eyes.

"Sansa, Sansa, I -" His arms tightened around her, his hands on her flesh, touching her back.

_Her back_.

_Put the fear away. Put it away. He can't see it. He can't see it, I am on my back. He can't...he can't...even if he feels the scars, he won't know. He won't know what it says. He couldn't know. He_ -

"Sansa. Sansa, I -"

"Just fuck me, Jon, _please_." _Erase my thoughts. Please_.

Suddenly he pulled away from her and sat upright on the bed. His hand went up to wipe off the slick from his beard and down his face. He looked at her with pain and shame.

Sansa, I can't. I just can't. I shouldn't even done what I did. Please know that I'm sorry. You are my cousin and I love you. But this... this just can't happen, for so many reasons -"

She said nothing, suddenly frozen with shock and anger as he left her, pulling up his pants and grabbing his discarded shirt from the floor. Without looking back, he slowly walked out of the room, his head hung low, closing the door behind him.

Leaving her seething and lonely in the dark.


	24. Another Morning After

_That's it. No more wine, no more alcohol. Ever_. 

Mouth dry and head pounding, Sansa was able to make her way to the shower and then dress in her regular clothes: an old pair of jeans and a pink sweater. The house was toasty but she was getting the hell out as soon as her overnight bag was zipped. She was terrified of seeing Jon and hoped he was either sleeping in (unlikely) or just gone. Hopefully Arya was gone as well. She just wanted to leave what happened behind and go home to wait for Robb. He would be home soon.

Oh god. _Robb_. What to do? Tell him? Keep it a secret? What would he do, how would he react? So many times in the past he told her he didn't own her, she was her own person, but that was before she kissed Jon. She only _kissed_ him and look where that went. She would have had sex with Jon if he didn't pull that last-minute honor card out. Typical Jon, wasn't it? Oh god, she was going to have to fess up to Robb. There was no way she could lie to him...was there?

Her thoughts were scattered. She should have never agreed to dinner. She should have never downed so much wine. Why did she want Jon so badly last night? Was it because he was sweet and good...and because Robb wasn't around? She acted like a selfish, spoiled brat and she should have known better; the wine was no excuse. She must have enjoyed it. She got off from it, didn't she? None of those stupid boys in school ever came close. Joff never got her off. _Only Robb_. Only Robb, her _brother_ , and Jon...her _cousin_. Was it the blood-relation factor? Was she so entirely messed up that it took a relative to make her cum? Should she test that theory on the handsome Jaime Lannister?

She threw on her jacket, violently grabbed up her bag and purse, and rushed out of her room. Her intentions were to run straight out the door to the SUV, but her stomach started churning. The house was so quiet. It wouldn't take her but a few minutes to pop some wheat bread into the toaster. Toast always settled her nausea. She made the mental promise to herself again as she dropped her bags and headed to the kitchen: no more wine. Ever.

She turned the corner and entered the massive kitchen.

_Great_.

Jon was perched on a bar stool at the island, sipping coffee and fiddling with a plate of eggs. His hair was a mess of curls, unkempt and uncombed. His back tee hung on him, about two sizes too large. his pajama bottoms matched, long and baggy, and his bare feet were resting on the last rung of the chair. He looked up at her, his dark eyes pained and guilt-ridden, but a small smile formed on his lips.

"Good morning, Sansa."

She couldn't speak, her eyes lingering on his lips. Oh. Those lips touched her most intimate spot...the spot that suddenly had a warmth spreading through it. She broke her gaze to follow his gesture; he indicated the area of the island where a glass of water and two aspirin sat waiting on her.

"Thank you, Jon." It was barely above a whisper. She downed the aspirin and chased it with as little water as possible. Her stomach was not approving.

"You're welcome." He was now paying special attention to his eggs as if they were the most important thing in the world. As if he never has his head between her legs or his tongue in her mouth. She suddenly lost interest in toast and wanted to bolt, but couldn't move.

"Jon -" she started an apology or something, she wasn't quite sure, but he smoothly cut her off.

"Are you staying here today?" He looked up at her from his eggs. Oh, god, those dark, broody eyes.

"No." She looked down. "I - I can't. Robb will be home soon -" How pathetic she sounded, after last night's demands that he fuck her. Oh god, how terrible.

Jon nodded, dragging his eyes away but not before she noticed the bloodshot in them.

"Do you need help with your bags?" Always the gentleman.

"No, thank you. I didn't bring much. I am leaving now." Her voice didn't sound as strong as she would have liked. It was weak and trembled and she felt ashamed. _And sick_.

Goodbye, Sansa. Drive safely. Text me when you get home so I know you made it." His tone was soft, caressing, patient.

She nodded, at a loss for any more words, and turned and fled, but not before glancing back to see him drop his fork and bury his head into his hands.

_Run, run, run away_. She was a coward. _Running back to Robb_. Always running back to her brother, who loved her no matter what she did... she made herself more sick with her racing thoughts. She picked up her bags and hurried out the door, down the steps towards her car. That was when she stopped dead in her tracks.

Next to Robb's SUV was a grey one. She didn't recognize it and automatically her guard was up. Security at Winterfell was apparently lax. Was Jon having a visitor over?

Two men got out, their doors slamming like cannons firing to Sansa's sensitive head. She took a few steps back as Theon Greyjoy and Joffery Baratheon approached her. She hadn't seen Joff in years, and she didn't want to see him now.

"Sansa!" Theon spoke first but made no move to greet her physically. "Long time no see, how are you?"

She didn't respond. She looked at Joff who was openly smirking, scanning her body in a way no doubt to be insulting. It was. Her chin jerked up.

"Sansa, you are as lovely as _ever_ ," Joff drawled. "You look _just_ like you did in high school." Theon elbowed him and smiled. 

"I've been meaning to get a hold of Robb. We should all get together and hang out sometime. Um, I mean, maybe you, me, Yara, and Robb," he added, leaving out Joff.

"What are you doing here?" She realized she sounded rude and short but she didn't care. Her head hurt, her stomach rolled, and all she wanted was to be home in Robb's bed.

"We're just here to pick up Ramsay. Going hunting up North."

Sansa shuddered.

"Does Jon know you brought Joff?"

"Uh, nah. Yeah, I think it's best Joff stay in the car." The not-so-subtle hint was not lost on Joff, who surprisingly backed away towards the car.

"A pleasure as _always_ , Sansa," he sneered, eyeing her lips while poking his tongue into the side of his cheek, protruding it. The reference was unmistakable to Sansa, who pursed her lips tight as to not start crying. _Fucking asshole still knew how to insult her_.

"Thanks, Theon," she whispered as the door slammed shut. Theon shrugged and looked around, then down at her bag.

"You spent the night?"

"Yes. Arya and I decided to spend some time with the family."

He shifted uncomfortably.

"Is Arya still here?"

She had forgotten about Arya. She didn't see her car but she could have cabbed it here. She lived much closer to Jon than she and Robb did. For a moment she forgot her anxiety over Joff and remembered the time Arya beat Theon's ass at one of her fashion shows' after party. She only heard about it; Theon had too much to drink and tried to get fresh with Arya of all women. Sansa was on Robb's arm all night.

"I'm not sure, Theon. Maybe you should go in and see -"

"Nah, I'm good." He paused, looking at her. She didn't care for his ferret-like beady eyes and the way he was looking at her. Almost like Joff did.

"Theon!"

They both turned in the direction of the voice.

Coming from the side of the house was Ramsay. He looked as if he spent time in the stables already. She surmised he had been there since the crack of dawn. His coat was dirty and his boots were muddied. Sansa never liked him. There was something unsettling about his grin; his blue eyes never seemed to hold any warmth and he looked at her like he wanted to fuck her senseless. When he approached, she started to panic. Joff and Theon and Ramsay, it was all to much. She struggled not to lose her shit completely. She refused to give an excuse for Joff to mock her for her panic attacks.

"Hey Ram, let's get going. Everything is in the back."

Ramsay stopped within inches from Sansa. She backed away and looked down.

"Sansa! How nice to see you." His tone was exaggerated politeness."Coming or going?"

"Leaving."

"Ah, okay. I hope you _enjoyed_ your stay." His bored tone suggested he really didn't care.

"I did, thank you. Winterfell is my home, you know."

" _Is_ it, now? I heard _you and your _brother's_ home is simply gorgeous."_

__

The sentence seemed to drip with hidden meaning. It was all of the Stark children's home. Her chest tightened and she felt like she was going to pass out. Please not here, not now. She had survived far worse than Ramsay Bolton's barely concealed rudeness. Robb would tear him apart anyway if he ever got too out of line. Just like he had with Joff. A flash of Jon going down on her flashed in her head. _What would Robb do to him for that_ ?

__

She was never more thankful to see Arya open the front door, and Ghost bounded down the steps straight to Sansa. Whenever Arya was at Winterfell, Ghost stuck to her like glue. Relief flooded her as she bent down to pet the massive dog, pressing her face into his fur.

__

"Ghost! Where have you been?"

__

"With me, sis," Arya answered for him." He slept in my bed all night. I think Jon was pissed, but Ghost never seems to want to leave me alone when I visit." She skipped down the steps, her eyes narrowing at Theon and then Ramsay.

__

"Uh, hi, Arya." It was Theon's turn to step back.

__

"So you're hanging out with _that_ prick now?" She thumbed over to the car where Joff glowered. "Great taste, Theon."

__

She must have seen Joff from the window and came out on purpose. Sansa couldn't help but smile, standing up to face her sister. One thing about Arya, she was fiercely protective of her family. Even when she didn't get along with them.

__

"They were just leaving, Arya."

__

Ramsay shrugged, bending down to give Ghost a dog treat he hand in his hand. When he was done he walked to the car without a goodbye, a smirk on his face as Ghost padded over to the SUV and then back again. Arya watched him the whole time, her eyes narrowing further still. She then glanced at Theon with the same gaze.

__

"Right, then... bye, Sansa, maybe we can meet up soon." Theon cleared his voice. "Bye, Arya."

__

"Yeah, _much_ later, Theon."

__

Theon took the hint and briskly walked to the driver's side, slammed the door, started the car, and burnt rubber.

__

"Thank you, Arya." Sansa breathed a sigh of relief.

__

Arya shrugged as if she was doing no favors. Ghost trotted back over to Arya, whining for some love. She knelt down to pet him, rubbing her slender hands into his fur.

__

" _Who's_ a good boy? You! _You_ are a good boy! Good boy, _yes_ you are!"

__

Sansa smiled. Arya was more loving to Ghost than she was to most people. She had been that way with all of their dogs.

__

"You're leaving so soon? You just got up. Jon and I have been up for hours, even with his ass being hungover."

__

"Yes, I'm leaving. Robb will be home soon."

__

She expected a fight on that comment but Arya seemed too distracted to argue.

__

"Well, be careful. Text me when you get there. You look kinda pale."

__

"Hangover." Her stomach agreed with her diagnosis.

__

"Okay. Well, I am going to stay a bit longer, hang out with Jon. I'm sorry dinner was a bust."

__

"It wasn't a bust, Arya. I should have laid off the wine though."

__

"So Jaime was good company?"

__

"Yes, he was. A perfect gentleman and smart, too."

__

Arya nodded, as if she wasn't even an active participant in the conversation.

__

"Bye, Sansa."

__

"Goodbye, Arya. And thank you." She gave Arya an awkward hug and she tolerated it, before breaking away and heading back into the house, Ghost close at her heels.

__

Sansa climbed into the SUV. She stilled for a moment, breathing to car in. It smelled of Robb, a reassuring scent, a warming scent, good and true and distinctively him. It calmed her. She missed him so much; his voice over the phone and his loving texts were not enough.

__

_Soon_. Soon he would be home and she could put this whole mess with Jon behind her. She _had_ to. It has been a huge mistake. Jaime Lannister was another mistake. She _needed_ her brother. Honestly, she didn't even see him as a brother now. He is her love, her soulmate. He is the man who does whatever it takes to ensure she is safe and loved. He is the lover who knows how to touch her. The knight who fights and slays her demons. The partner in crime in any plan she wanted to devise and execute. He is hers completely. She is his. Last night was a drunken mistake and it opened her eyes to the truth. _There was no one for her but Robb_. She knew that for certain now.

__

The sickness fled from her as she pulled away from Winterfell, smiling. _She was going home. Home to Robb_.

__


	25. Homecoming

_Home never looked so good_.

Robb breathed a sigh of relief as soon as he entered the gates to home. Gendry dumped him off and sped away, no doubt rushing to get home to Arya. Robb didn't want to think on that much but he was amused at Gendry's eagerness all the same. He had been a fun business partner and did quite well with his presentations; he would have to remember to pass along praise for his prowess to Jon. He would also pass on to Jon that Gendry and he were going to make more business trips; Robb was done. Five days away from Sansa was unbearable and it felt even worse than the week she had stayed at Winterfell. At least then he was laid up with a broken ankle and festering with horror and guilt over the night of the party; this time, he suffered pangs of knowing what he was missing without having her in his bed.

He was especially anxious since the night before last happened. She called him late at night and he ended up spending two hours on the phone with her. He could tell she had too much wine and had been crying. He wanted to leave then and there but she insisted he stay, and as always he gave in to what she wanted. He also gave in to her sweetly worded request for phone sex, which of course he wasn't adverse to. While it was thrilling and sexy, and hearing her orgasm helped him to easily achieve his own release, it still felt empty and it only increased his desire to hold her in his arms and make love to her properly.

Finally at the door, he set his carry-on bag and suitcases down, fumbled for keys, and opened the door, hurriedly moving everything inside and keying the security pad on the inside. The house was quiet. No Jory to greet him...or Sansa. He sighed, running fingers through his hair. There was something about coming home to an empty house that left him aching. He might as well shrug the coat off and stay awhile. A nap in his own bed sounded great. Maybe Sansa was already there.

"Robb!"

He heard her squeal before he saw her bounding down the hallway, her read hair streaming down her shoulders. She was barefoot and she only wore one of his t-shirts; he saw her long, slim, pale legs flash before him before she jumped into his already outstretched arms. He laughed as she wrapped her legs around him and oh, god, he clasped her ass to hold her in place. Stumbling back against the door, he was assaulted with kisses raining down on his cheeks, eyes, beard, and finally his lips. She was all legs and hands and mouth and he loved it. Hr breathed in her scent.

"I missed you _so_ much, love. No more business trips," he told her between pecks. "I swear that to you now. Unless you come with me and share my room."

He was hard already. He wanted to talk to her, hold her, but of course his body instantly hungered for her. She was half-naked and pressing eagerly against him. How could he _not_ want her?

"Sansa - Sansa, let us move out of the foyer -"

"No, Robb," she whispered seductively in his ear, making him shiver. "I want you now. _Here_. I don't want to wait. I've waited five days!"

She was clawing at his coat. Reluctantly he released her smooth, round bottom so she could stand an peel his jacket off while still giving him those sweet kisses. She dropped it to the floor and he pulled her against him, enjoying the feel of her curves and pressing his hard-on into her. Arms snaked around his neck and he felt her slim, cooling fingers threading through his curls. He kissed her more forcibly then and she melted into him. He was beyond thinking when he stepped forward, trying to move them both, and tripped over the forgotten coat, stumbling with Sansa, who grappled his shirt with a small shriek. He thought he had her and his footing, until she purposely pulled him down to the floor on top of her.

"Sansa!" He tried to to pull up and she fiercely gripped him to her, pulling him down for more kisses despite him trying to form sentences...or at least, words. She started babbling between nips and licks.

"I just want you, Robb. _Only you_ ," she whined. "I missed you, I missed this, god I -missed you so much, you don't know how much -"

He felt her hand reach down to boldly cup his cock through his jeans. Jesus, it was like her hand burned through the denim. He felt like a high school kid about to cum before the real deal even started. No, no. That was not going to happen.

"Sansa, love - you aren't - in much, and the tile has to be cold and I know it's hard -"

"Mmmm, yes, it _is_ hard, Robb."

Jesus fucking Christ, her voice was so low and sexy and she was unbuckling his belt and unzipping him before he even knew what was happening. He breath was coming in heavy puffs now, but he still managed a strangled chuckle as he gathered her in his arms and flipped her so that he was lying on the hard floor and she was on top.

"I meant the _floor_ , my love."

"Well, what do you _think_ I meant? You have a _very_ dirty mind, Mr. Stark."

He couldn't think of a witty reply; he really couldn't think at all as she deftly made short work of the buttons on his shirt, exposing his chest to run her hands over him and curl her fingers into his chest hair. He reached down to the top of his jeans, pushing them and his boxers down in short, jerky movements, while Sansa lifted off him slightly, leaning her chest into him. Her hair tickled his face and neck as she leaned down for more kisses which he readily gave, his hands running up her body to cup her face.

In a heartbeat she moved her flimsy panties to the side and sank down onto him. He was shocked at the sudden sensation of her so tight and wet on his cock, and he groaned into her mouth as she did the same. In no time she was gyrating against him, whimpering between moans, and he met her with smooth thrusts while his hand sought her clit. He was surprised at how swollen she already was. He could feel her already building towards her peak, which was fine; he was already so close as well...

She reared up, closing her eyes, moving faster, more demanding; he moved his fingers to match her rhythm to bring her to a climax. She cried out, flinging herself down against him and he felt her pulses, allowing his own release, grunting into her ear as he held her tight and shoved as deep as he could go. 

They laid there for a moment; spent, relieved, breathless.

"I love you," Sansa murmured into his ear. "I love you so much."

"And I, you," he returned, then groaned. "I think I need to get off this floor."

She smiled sweetly, lifting herself off of him, and he sighed at the feeling of her warmth leaving his cock. _If only they could have stayed like that forever_...

"Oh god, Sansa. Jory -" He was upset with himself for not thinking.

"Relax, Robb. Jory is at his friend's house for the night. Although I do wonder of he thinks something is going on, the way we always have him leaving on some pretext or another."

Robb stood up, aching, pulling his clothes back on. He ran a hand through his hair, looking at her. His beautiful love. Her lips darkened and cheeks rosy from her orgasm, hair a disheveled mess, blue eyes sparkling, his shirt wrinkled and hanging on her; she was a vision. A goddess. His goddess.

She held out her hand and he took it without question.

"I actually do have dinner ready for us. And a movie."

"I thought I already provided your entertainment?"

She smiled sweetly at him, tugging him down the hallway.

"Why yes, you did...and you will some more, but later. We need fuel, you know."

He smiled. Unpacking could definitely wait.

 

***********************

 

Dinner turned out to be a homemade pizza, nothing fancy but it was one of his favorite meals, with beer for him and water for Sansa. The movie ended up being Pirates Of the Caribbean, and the significance was not lost on Robb. They shared their first romantic kiss at the end of that movie when they watched it at home one night after everyone had gone to bed. Even now he remembered how it felt; the strangeness, the love, the passion - and the fear. Now there was no fear in kissing her, and nothing strange about it, but the love and passion only increased over time.

He couldn't resist breaking their cuddle position to kiss her at the precise moment when Will Turner kissed Elizabeth Swann, just as he did back then; she initially laughed playfully, calling him a nostalgic romantic, but the kiss soon turned heated and they ended up just kissing for who knows how long, before settling back into the couch to watch another movie, although they both ended up falling asleep instead.

Robb flickered his eye open, only to see Sansa staring up at him. She had fallen asleep against his chest but was now wide awake. He focused on her and his brow furrowed. She had a sadness in her eyes and something like trepidation or hesitation. 

"Sansa? What is it?"

Tears sprang to her eyes and Robb sat up to hold her, searching her face.

"Are you sick?"

An odd smile trembled around her lips and she shook her head. Moving away, she sat just far enough away as to not touch him and lowered her eyes.

"Robb, there's something I think I should tell you." 

His heart sank and then froze. A million thoughts swarmed his brain and none of them were favorable. He tried to keep his voice as soft and calm as possible.

"What is it, love? You can tell me, whatever it is."

She bit her lip, not raising her eyes.

"I don't want you to be upset. I know you will be but I have to ask of you could please just hear me out. I need to get this out in the open, no matter what happens. I would feel guilty if I kept it from you, and we have no lies between us, do we? We share everything."

He swallowed and his jawline involuntarily clenched. He could only nod and whisper for her to go ahead but he was pretty sure whatever she had to say was going to ruin their wonderful homecoming night. He was tempted to tell her to wait until morning but he knew she was struggling with whatever it was. He told himself to be patient and open-minded. Sansa needed his understanding, as she always had.

She sighed deeply. Still not looking at him, she let the words tumble out of her mouth.

"Arya and Jon invited me out for a dinner." She paused.

Robb tensed.

"Jaime Lannister was there."

A soft roaring started in his ears. 

"We had a lovely dinner, Robb. It was just dinner and it was nice to get out. I had too much wine, though. I wasn't feeling well so Jon, Arya, and I went back to Winterfell right after dinner. Jaime was a complete gentleman and went on his way."

Relief flooded him, but only for a moment. She finally looked up at him and her eyes were watery and pleading. Begging. Jaime was not the bomb she wanted to drop.

"Go on, my love." He tried to sound comforting but he knew his voice was tight.

"I - I wanted to go to bed. I was so sick to my stomach and tipsy from the wine that I thought I couldn't make it to my room by myself. Jon had been drinking, too, so he wasn't much better off than me, I think, but he wanted to make sure I - I got to bed okay."

Robb clenched his teeth together and kept his hands to his sides, clenched into fists. He knew it. He knew now what was coming and he didn't know if he should stop her or let her keep going. The roaring in his ears deepened. He should just let her say it. She wanted to say it. His chest tightened. Sansa took a deep breath and looked down again.

"I was so _lonely_ , Robb. I missed you and needed you. I - I wasn't thinking straight. The wine was too much. I know it's no excuse, but - well, I made a move on Jon."

He closed his eyes and prayed for control. He hoped he had heard her wrong. Anger and hurt formed beneath his skin. Still, he waited. Waited and wished he was deaf.

"I regret it, I do. I am so sorry but I had to tell you. Jon was - well, he was mortified the next day. I think he is truly sorry that anything happened. He still treated me right, very decently, but -"

"Did you fuck him, Sansa?" He was surprised at how calm he sounded. Inside he was screaming and beating Jon to an imaginary pulp.

"No! No, Robb, I swear to you, I didn't have sex with him, I _promise_ you." 

Thank all things holy and unholy for that bit. At least the worst hadn't happened. But still...

"What did you do?" _Why was he asking? Did he really want to know_ ? He didn't want the details but not knowing made it worse, didn't it?

He opened his eyes to see her tears spilling down. Without thinking, his fingers reached up to gently brush them away. _His sweet, tortured Sansa_. He should have never left her here alone. _And Jon_. He knew Jon was attracted to Sansa. He knew it when he saw his face the day after the party. Sansa had been drinking and needed him and he was six hundred miles away attending a convention he didn't even want to be at...and she turned to Jon...

"Robb, I kissed him, he kissed me. He - um, I mean, he -" She swallowed nervously.

"Did he get you off?" Stupid, jealous question.

"Robb!"

"Did he?"

She looked down.

"Yes," she whispered.

"Did he go down on you?" He didn't want to know, but he sort of did.

She started to cry harder then, her face scrunching up and eyes narrowing. That was enough of a yes for him. He withdrew his hands from her face and gripped them again at his sides. He tried to keep the mental image of Jon eating her out as far away from his mind as he could but it wasn't working. He felt sick. She was his, she loved him, not Jon. Or did she fall in love with Jon? No, he had been a warm body to help her through her loneliness and troubled thoughts. _This was not really happening. No_.

"Please, please don't be mad at Jon, Robb. I asked him to -to - have sex with me and he refused. He was a gentleman about it, he -"

"A fine gentleman that ate a drunk woman's pussy." 

"Robb!" She visibly cringed at the coarseness of his words.

"Wait. You _wanted_ to have sex with him? You _asked_ him to fuck you?"

"But he didn't, Robb! I am telling you this because I didn't want to hide it, I didn't want to lie to you. It happened, it's _over_ , I was just so lonely for you. I only want _you_ , Robb, forever -"

He stood up, not looking at her. His fists still to his sides, he glared at her. So beautiful and contrite, sitting on the couch, look up at him, her eyes begging him to understand. Pleading with him to think it's no big deal that Jon went down on her, that she actually asked another man to fuck her. He had to get away from her. He had to. _Now_.

"Goodnight, Sansa."

"Robb - please -"

He turned and strode out of the living room and down the long hall to the stairs.

"Robb!"

He heard her rushing after him. He just needed to get away from her. Now. His blood was boiling and he couldn't even see straight, and he felt like he might even cry. He felt like a damn fool.

"I said, _goodnight_ , Sansa!" The warning was clear as she starting sprinting up to his room. She was hot on his trail.

"Robb, please don't run away from me!"

_Down the hallway, almost to his bedroom door_ -

He felt her hand grab her arm and then his shirt. He whirled around to face her, grabbing her forearm and shoving her up against the hallway wall. His stared into her; she noticed her jaw quivered but she met his gaze and didn't struggle against his grasp.

"Don't shut me out, Robb. I can stand anything but that -"

His thoughts became incoherent at the sound of her voice, at the feel of her soft, delicate skin under his bruising hands. _Don't shut her out_ ? He tried to shut her out but he couldn't - _and wouldn't_. Instead, he wanted to claim her. Reclaim her. Reaffirm that she was his, his alone, and he was hers. No other man would go through hell and back just to be by her side. He would. _Only him_...

Without hesitation he dropped to his knees in front of her, reaching up her thighs to her panties, ripping them off of of her like they were gossamer. He heard her gasp and them whimper as he shoved her - _well, his_ \- shirt up to her waist and delved his tongue straight into her. Her knees almost buckled but stayed, shaking, as he grasped his hands om the back of her thighs, pushing his face closer in, the shirt falling over his head. He felt her hand twisting in his hair as her other lifted the shirt. His mouth and head movements were so brutal, so insistent, that her body was shoved up against the wall repeatedly in time with him tongue-fucking her. God, she was so wet, and he could taste the mixture of her excitement and the remnants of him from earlier in the foyer. The intermingling taste flooded his senses. He stopped for a moment only to lick up to her clit, to bite and suck mercilessly, then he slipped back into her hole again, repeating the movements until she was grinding up against him, whimpering and crying and moaning, her fingers pulling his hair and holding his head close.

She was steady now, her legs tense and straining with pleasure, and he moved a hand to her mound, pulling out his tongue to lap at her nub while he inserted two fingers, moving them in and out. They were drenched instantly and he thought he would lose his mind. Removing them slowly and inserting his fingers inside from his other hand, he reached underneath her shaved pussy to find her asshole with his saturated middle finger. Slowly he pushed it in, gently rocking in and out at first, while still working her clit with his mouth and her cunt with his other fingers.

"Oh god, Robb, please - _oh god, please_ -" She was crying, moaning. "Ah -" 

"Did he do _this_ , Sansa?" He growled against her in between licks. " _Did_ he?"

"No!" Her high-pitched shriek pierced the stillness of the house and he felt a smug satisfaction."God _no, no, no_ -"

"Are you _mine_ , Sansa?" He twisted his finger in her ass, pushing it harder.

"Yes, Robb, I'm yours. I'm yours -" She chanted, repeating it over and over and it was music to his ears. He felt his cock straining and his blood rushing, and all he knew or wanted to know was the taste and feel of Sansa from the inside out.

"Say it again, Sansa. I need to hear it." There were no more words from his as he lay siege to her cunt with lips, tongue, and fingers.

"I am yours, Robb, _yours_. Yours. _Forever_. I will _always_ be yours! Until the grave makes ghosts of both of us - _ah_ ! Always, _always_ -" She was incoherent, yanking on his curls, bringing him pain and pleasure and giving him life. And death...

He heard her sharper intake of breath and felt her tension peaking; he withdrew his fingers from both holes to grab her thighs and shoved his face into her as his tongue rammed inside of her again at a maddening pace; she was shamelessly riding his face, her head whipping side to side. He felt her pulse violently around his tongue and tasted the extra sweet flow of her orgasm as she cried out his name repeatedly in a near-scream.

Her cries became whimpers as she came down from her climax. He drank in as much as he could of her secretions until he felt her begin to collapse. He swiftly withdrew from her and gathered her in his arms, carrying her into his bedroom and lying her down on his bed - _where she belonged_ \- and ridding her of his shirt. She was still panting, her breath erratic from her overpowering high, looking up at him with barely concealed lust as he stripped off his clothes. His cock felt harder than it ever had in his whole life as he took her in his arms and pushed inside of her. She cried out, still so sensitive and swollen, wrapping her long, silky legs around him. He kissed her then, tongue seeking tongue in passion, letting her taste the mixture of them. She flung her arms around his neck, nails digging in. He broke the kissing to look down at her - _his lovely Sansa, his love_ \- while he moved inside her. His slow, heated strokes and her thrusting hips were taking him beyond any sanity he had left. She met his eyes and he couldn't look away. Her lips parted, wet with their kisses, and his hunger for her knew no boundaries. He could never, ever get enough of her, and damn anyone who tried to get in his way. Jon would never have her. _Never_.

"Sansa, Sansa my love, my life," he rasped. "Don't leave me. Don't ever leave me -" His thrusts picked up, deeper and harder and faster. He kissed her hard, biting her lower lip, and she bit him back in matched lust.

"I never want to leave you, Robb. Never. You are my world, my entire world - ah, I love you so much -"

She was ready to cum again. He could feel it; every thrust down hit her clit with just the right constant friction and he increased the rhythm furiously to help her way.

"Cum for me, love, I want you to cum for me again -"

As if on cue he felt her tighten and pulse around his cock as she moaned, nails raking down the length of his back. He shuddered in extreme pain and delight as she murmured his name through her orgasm. It was enough for him to follow her with his own release, her name always on his lips. He collapsed gently against her. Lifting his head, he looked her in the eyes and leaned in to kiss her gently this time.

"You are _mine_ , Sansa, and I am _yours_."

She smiled, reaching up to twist a curl of his hair around her finger.

"Until the grave makes ghosts of both of us," she agreed.


	26. Not Silent In the Darkness

_Dark and silence_.

_Dark_.

 _Silence_.

What the fuck?

Joff opened his eyes. His head was fucking killing him. Way too many shots with Ramsay and Theon, though he usually held his own pretty damn good. It took a disoriented moment to realize he was on his stomach, his head turned sideways into the pillow. He had no shirt.

And he tied up at this hands and feet to the headboard and footboard.

_Goddamn it, that little fucking bitch wanted to play more fucking games_. Myranda was the kinkiest little cunt he ever met. But he wasn't going to be able to do shit on his stomach. And she better not try to stick any shit in his ass. He would fucking kill her. The thought of strangling the life out of her brought a smile to his face, but only for a second. It hurt to smile.

Right.

He forgot about the punch to his jaw earlier. He was out drinking with Ramsay and Theon again, and of course they ran into some trouble. He was getting tired of taking punches. Ramsay was a tough little fucker, and Theon was able to get a swing in, but fighting ability escaped Joff, though he rather liked watching it. He was bored with life, really. Was spending his father's money, fucking whores, and drinking all that was left for him to do? No...there were a few more things he could do. Like kill Robb Stark, for one. He would enjoy that.

Joff tried to lift his head. The room was pitch black. Strange, Ramsay's bedroom was never this dark; the streetlights always gleamed into the thin, cheap blinds, providing plenty of light to watch all the degrading acts spread before him when Myranda wanted to play. Or, rather, when Ramsay did. Theon joined in a few times, but only when he was good and drunk.

Damn, his restraints were tight.

"Good. You're awake."

His ears were ringing. Myranda sounded strange, low-pitched and serious.

"What the fuck -" his tongue felt thick.

"Oh, please shut up. I would hate to have to gag you. It would defeat the purpose, really."

Joff started to sweat and tugged at the ropes.

"Don't bother. I know how to tie a secure knot or two."

More alert now, Joff suddenly realized he was not lying in Ramsay's bed. Where the fuck was he, anyway?

"Myranda -" He heard her laugh then.

"Jesus Christ, _really_ ? I should be so insulted right now. You think I'm _that_ little skank?"

He heard a chair scrape across the floor to stop beside him and someone sat down on it. He realized this was no sick sex game and he might be in some serious trouble.

"I'm going to ask you some questions, Joffrey. If you answer them honestly, I might let you live. If not, well, I don't think you want to know."

He wanted to ask for Ramsay but decided against it. His buttocks clenched as his whole body tensed.

"So, let's get down to it, shall we?"

Joff remained silent. He needed to figure out who this bitch was and what the fuck she wanted with him. She sounded familiar.

"Tell me, Joff, do you like causing other people pain? I mean, you know what, never mind. I already know the answer. Fuck this, really; I was never good at playing little games."

He heard her stand up and walk away and a light flickered on. His eyes blurred and he tried to adjust them as quickly as he could. 

_The fuck? Arya Stark_ ?

She sat back down, clad all in black, her hair pulled back skintight. The shock of seeing her was compounded with panic when he saw the knife in her gloved hands; an X-acto knife.

"Oh, _this_ ?" She held it up, inspecting it as if she were seeing it for the first time. "Oh, well, I suppose this might look like something you used to have? Or maybe you still have?"

He wanted to scream and vomit.

"Um, Joffrey, that was a _question_. I think you should answer that."

"No."

She rolled her eyes.

"Maybe I should back up a bit. How about...how about you tell me what you did to my parents and my brother and sister?"

He knew then why he was here and what was going to go down.

"I - I didn't do anything to anyone -"

"Liar. Try again."

He tried to lift himself up off the bed and found out he couldn't. He started to whimper.

"I didn't do _anything_ -"

She sighed, tilting her head to the side and leaning forward to look him in the eye, Her stare was grey steel. 

"What did you do to my sister?"

"Nothing!"

"Are you sure of that?"

Joff thought for a moment. He wished he could have Ramsay's cool demeanor. But he didn't.

 

"I let your sister _suck my dick_ , is that what you want to hear?" He meant it to sound like a defiant sneer but it came out as a whine. She lunged forward and he received a blow to his head. It stunned him.

"Still a cocky little prick, aren't you, even when you're in a very bad position."

His mouth went dry.

"You were always obsessed with Sansa, weren't you?"

Obsessed? Joff wasn't obsessed with anyone. They were all obsessed with _him_. Sansa? She was a Stark, the hottest piece of ass in high school, he had to have her. He had known her all her life as a family friend, but that wasn't good enough for him once she got a set of tits and hips. He wanted to fuck her, but that was before he found out what a twisted and sick little bitch she really was... and not Myranda's kind of twisted and sick.

"So I dated her. So the fuck what?" He sniveled.

She sighed.

"I think you should just confess to me, Joff. It will be easier for you in the long run. I don't see this ending well for you if you don't. I just want to hear you say it."

He wanted to be defiant but his eyes were transfixed on that knife.

"I - I said I don't - have anything to say!"

Like lightning she was back out of the chair, and this time she grabbed his long blonde hair, making him yelp. He looked into those hard grey eyes and saw nothing there but anger. Anger and a fanatical glow.

"You were mad at her for dumping you, weren't you?"

Intelligence wasn't Joff's strong suit; he reacted without thinking it through.

" _Fuck_ that bitch. She did me a favor."

"I think I am going to do _you_ a favor, Joff, and slit your fucking throat." He voice was soft and calm, even if her eyes were not.

"Stop! _Please_." He begged her. "Don't - you cant -"

"Why, yes, I can." She brought the knife close to his chin. "I'd be doing Robert a favor by getting ride of his pathetic excuse of a killer son."

"I - I didn't kill _anyone_ !"

"One last chance, Joff. I didn't really want to have to talk to you, but here we are. I'm not wanting to become a killer like you, but unfortunately I have no choice."

"I didn't! I didn't -" He sputtered. He didn't think she was listening; she didn't even blink. The knife was hovering over his back now. He could feel the air around it.

"Fuck _you_ , Arya!" His terror gave way to defiance, finally. "Fuck you and all the fucking Starks. I wouldn't touch that bitch with a ten-foot pole after what I saw. That bitch was only good as a cocksucker - _Ayyeeee_ !"

He felt the tip of the knife glide across his back, slicing. It stung and pain seared through him. He screeched in pain and bit his lip. Tears sprang forward, embarrassing him and angering him at the same time. Arya withdrew the knife, expressionless.

"That's my _sister_ you are speaking of, asshole. Show some respect."

" _Respect_ ?" He screamed at her, caution dripping away with the the blood she just shed. "Respect for that brotherfucking whore? Fuck you and her and Robb. Fuck you all!"

Another slice, then another, sent him screaming. He felt blood running down his sides. The smell of it hit the air.

"What the _fuck_ did you say, Joff? What the _fuck_ was that?"

He noticed with satisfaction that she was stunned. Shocked. Disbelieving. _Good_.

"You heard me! I wasn't about to fuck that filthy cunt after her own brother's dick was in it -"

"You're nothing but a liar, you little prick." Her voice held a small note of uncertainty.

Joff was openly crying now, sniveling and struggling for control. The only way he knew to recover some sense of manliness was to hurt her where he knew it would hit the worst.

"Sansa's the liar! I saw them - I saw them - your perfect brother is _fucking your perfect sister_ ! Fucking perfect Starks are nothing but some fucked-up backwoods hillbilly-fucking sick fucks!"

His reward for his words were repeated blows to his head and curses. He couldn't duck, couldn't move.  
Before he lost consciousness , he stared hazily at the bloodied knife she still grasped in her other hand.


	27. Doubt

Arya felt numb as she sat with Gendry on the couch, staring into the flames of the fireplace. His strong arms held her but she barely felt them. He hadn't said a word since they came back home from dropping off a passed-out Joffrey back at his apartment. Actually, he hadn't said a word since he helped her carry him out of their basement after she stitched up his wounds. She went a little too deep and now he would carry permanent reminders and that is what Arya wanted. Well, what she _almost_ wanted.

She wanted to kill that fucking slimy bastard. If Gendry hadn't stormed in she would have done it and not felt a thing about it. Hell, she might have actually liked it, getting justice for her family. Was she intending to kill him all along? She might have if he had confessed. He didn't confess, and that hit her like a brick. Someone like Joffrey Baratheon would have confessed to fucking his own mother if it got him out of a situation alive. Yet he did not admit to the killings. Instead, he threw out accusations that made her sick to her stomach while thoughts raced through her head at a rapid pace.

_Was there more to Robb and Sansa's relationship than just being a co-dependent sibling bond_ ?

Robb and Sansa had _always_ been close. They never really hung out with her and Bran and Rickon, unless forced to on family vacations or at family gatherings. She always chalked it up to age differences, since they were the eldest and only two years apart. But they never seemed to want to be around friends, either, and even Mom and Dad were treated like afterthoughts. Was that normal? Mom and Dad seemed to think things were fine. Arya had always been jealous of their bond. She loved Robb and looked up to him as her handsome, older, perfect brother, but he never seemed to have much time for her. All of his time was focused on her older sister. He listened when she talked, did what she wanted him to do, followed her where she led. Even before the deaths he always gave in to Sansa's whims, no matter how childish. He even sided her when she argued with Arya, no matter what the circumstance. Arya was soothed a bit with the bond she formed with Jon, who paid her more attention and treated her as an equal, even though he was nearly seven years older than she. But she still longed for Robb to want to spend time with her, too.

After the killings, Robb focused on raising her and Bran, taking on the role of a father and he did quite well, but again his main focus was on Sansa and her trauma. She remembers hearing him sometimes rushing into Sansa's room in the middle of the night when she would wake up screaming, waking everyone up as well. Arya would lie awake frozen in her bed, curling the comforter up around her head, wondering if Bran woke up, too, and if he was doing the same thing in his room. She would hear Sansa's door shut and thankfully the crying and screaming would stop.

That wasn't _wrong_ , was it? Wasn't that how any caring older brother would act, comforting a scared sister who suffered through a horrific experience?

Dating. Robb dated...only one girl in high school and one in college that she knew of. Sansa as far as she knew only dated that little prick. Arya never saw their steadies much at the house. Was that strange? Robb and Sansa were both smart, good-looking, and popular. Why didn't they date more? Neither one of them have been with anyone since the murders that she knew of. Wasn't it time to live their lives?

The party. Finding both of their masks by Sansa's bed.

Sansa running into Robb's room after she was asked about Lady.

Robb's anger over Sansa staying at Winterfell for a week without him and getting into a brawl in a bar which was so out of character.

Both of them sequestered at home while re recovered from his ankle and Jory was on an extended vacation.

_Coincidences_ ?

Joff was a lying little shit, always had been. Why Sansa chose to go out with him was beyond her. He was lying. He had to be. Starks didn't go around committing sibling incest. They weren't sick. She never saw Bran that way. Or Robb. So no, Sansa couldn't see Robb that way, did she? He was her brother, nothing more. Joff was just trying to save his own skin and it worked. The weak fucker actually got in her head. How would he know? What had he really seen? She meant to ask him but he passed out. He hadn't been around the Starks since just after the murders, when all the Baratheons showed up to offer condolences.

What if she guess wrong? What if Joff didn't kill them? Or, what if he had help?

_Help_.

Two faces flashed before her eyes.

_If Joff did it, he hadn't been there alone_.

"Are you sure he won't go to the police?" Gendry's low, quiet voice interrupted her frantic thoughts.

"If he does, I will finish the job."

"Arya -"

"I will kill him, Gendry. End of story." She felt his grip on her tighten. "If you hadn't come downstairs, I would have killed him already."

"I know." His tone was low, unhappy.

Dear Gendry, her accomplice. He helped her corner Joff in the back lot of the bar by the dumpster where he was taking a piss after a fight she started anonymously on purpose. He helped her get him home, down tot he basement, and onto the bed. And he helped her get him back to his own apartment, not saying a word...until it dawned on him that she meant to kill him.

"Gen, do you still want to marry me?" After this night, she wasn't sure if Gendry felt the same about her. She felt and heard him sigh.

"Arry, I fell in love with you for who you are. I know you aren't a cold-blooded killer. I know you want justice, but this is not the way. This is revenge, vengeance, bloodlust. And you don't even know for sure if he's the one. What if he isn't?"

"He had motive. No one else has motive! He hates us Starks, always hated Robb. And the breakup with Sansa was horrible. He took it badly. He hates how Robert treats us better than his own kids. He hated Dad's friendship woth Robert. He also had been at the cabin several times before. It makes perfect sense, it fits together. He let Sansa live because he wanted her fucked up and dealing with this shit for the rest of her life."

"Tell me this is it, then? No more?" His voice was pleading, shaking.

She fell silent. Gendry was wanting her to stop. She was already thinking of calling Jon and enlisting his help again. At least Jon would help her and not preach at her about morality or whatnot.

"Arya, I won't be a part of this anymore. I won't help you on a downward spiral. And I won't help you take a human life. Gather enough evidence and go to the police. Have him arrested."

"I don't have solid proof."

"Then find it."

Gendry. He may be Robb's age but he was so naive. She smiled sadly, moving to cup his face in her hands.

"You are a good man, Gendry."

Before he could reply, she kissed him, long and hard. He hesitated for a second before kissing her back.

"Are you trying to distract me, Arry?"

"Well, yeah. Is it working?"

His answer was to push her down into the couch, kissing her, his hands yanking off her shirt, followed by her black pants. She wasn't wearing underwear. He stripped himself of his clothes in record time and she looked up at him, admiring his physique. She could never tire of those muscles. He moved in to kiss her again, taking her in his arms, meaning to give her long. drawn-out pleasures, but she reached down and boldly grabbed his cock, guiding him inside of her. She didn't want a long, tender lovemaking session. She wanted him hard, fast, furious. He obliged her the best that he could, thrusting into her, quickening the pace, making her moan from the rough friction. She pressed closer to him, biting into his shoulder while she was shocked at how quickly her orgasm came and overpowered her. She heard him gasp in pain as he came.

"Thanks for the quickie, Gen," she said breathlessly.

"You are most welcome, Milady. I will continue down this path...if you promise you won't do anything else without proof." He moved down, his head resting on her breasts.

"Fine. I won't do anything more until we find some solid evidence."

Her lie came out easily.

The first boldface lie she ever told him.

_She felt no guilt_. She waited for it to overwhelm her conscience, yet it didn't even touch it.

_She would be calling Jon first thing in the morning_.


	28. Long And Winding Winter Road

The snow was already coming down heavily as Robb navigated the SUV towards Winterfell. Sansa knew it was coming; she couldn't remember a time where they didn't have at least several inches at Christmas. She trusted Robb's driving ability but it worried her a little. It was coming down so rapidly she could barely see out the windshield.

She was worried about other things as well.

This was the first time traveling to Winterfell since the things with Jon. She wanted to beg off, claim sickness, blame the weather, anything. It wasn't just having to face Jon again. After all, she faced him the morning after. It was having Jon and Robb in the same room with her that gave her pause.

She argued something fierce with Robb earlier and even though the lines in his face were set in a smile now as he hummed along to the radio, she knew he was still cross with her. She wanted to stay home bit he argued it was tradition for the Starks to have Christmas Eve together at Winterfell. She brought up the fact that Bran and Meera and baby Rickon weren't going due to weather conditions, but all Robb said to that was since they lived even further north than Winterfell, it was understandable that they didn't want to travel with a baby. Then he bluntly stated that she didn't want to go simply because she let Jon go down on her and she didn't want to face him. That comment delivered him a slap to the face and a _fuck you_ , which she was instantly sorry for, but then not so sorry as it resulted in some heated sex on the living room floor.

Lately she was pushing his buttons on purpose but she didn't know why. Or, maybe she _did_ know but didn't want to admit it. Robb, who was always so restrained and tender with her for so long, was showing her a different side to him, almost feral at times... _and she loved it_. She loved his possessiveness, loved his passion, loved his fury and desperation. She still loved his deep, silky voice reciting her favorite poems as he made sweet, slow love to her, but her best orgasms lately resulted from the times he moaned obscenities into her ear and took her with such force that she was pleasantly sore for days. She loved having the power to drive him to such actions when she knew it was not in his nature. It reminded her of the night of the party, and she knew it reminded him, too. She shoved down the thought that she needed him to be different now from Jon, so far removed from Jon's personality that she could absolve herself of any wrongdoing, somehow, stemming from that night where she begged Jon to have sex with her.

A tortured Robb was nothing new. She knew him to be tortured and conflicted from the time he confessed his love for her in his mid-teens. She was always the sure one with her feelings, with her love for him, after the initial denial and struggle with the truth. She reconciled her issues with their love a long, long time ago. Robb had finally come to terms with it as well, but she knew there was an insecure streak in him that made him fear she would leave him for another man, a man she could share a conventional life with. She knew Robb was now bound to her forever, but he didn't know for sure if she felt the same way. The sting of Jon was easy to understand; cousin marriages were still legal. So Sansa reassured him as much as she could, but also left a glimmer of doubt to plant a seed in his mind. It was of course to her advantage and she felt he deserved it after denying her consummation for so long. Besides, she could tell he fed off it as well.

"Robb, please slow down, I can't even see the road," she begged nervously, her thoughts flitting back to the weather again."Maybe we should turn back and tell Jon we couldn't make it. He'd understand. Besides, he has Ygritte to keep him company, so he won't be alone." She glanced at him and saw his jaw clench, but he eased up on the gas.

"I didn't take you for a coward, Sansa."

_Here we go_.

"I am not a coward, Robb! I would just rather stay home and make love by the fireplace all night, is that so wrong?"

"We needed to get out of the house, Sansa. We've barely been out of the house since-"

"Are you objecting to my idea?"

He smiled. _Oh god, that smile_.

"I would love nothing more, my love, but I am trying to make this as normal and healthy as possible. It's not normal to never leave your house for months on end and to not see anyone. We need to be social sometimes, at least with family."

She snorted and rolled her eyes.

"Since when do we care about family gatherings? I mean, sure, you cared about Bran and Arya and having some semblance of a family life while raising them to adulthood. Other than that, why do we even take the whole traditional thing into consideration?"

"We need to keep up appearances -"

"I'm _tired_ of appearances," she sighed, frustrated. "I'm _tired_ of hiding our love."

"Sansa, in case you forgot, we are _brother and sister_ -"

"Unfortunately, I can never forget, can I?" Her voice started to shrill. "It feels like you _aren't_ a brother anymore, you are more my _lover_ and _husband_ than a sibling, at least in our own home behind closed doors. Out here, we are _only_ siblings! Until the day we die that is _all_ we are to the outside world!"

His grip on the wheel tightened and the car sped up.

"So, what do you suggest we do? Be shut-ins for the rest of our fucking lives?"

"Slow down, Robb, I'd like to make it in one piece -"

"I am sure _Jon_ would like that, too."

"Just stop!" In truth she wanted him jealous, at least a little. It turned her on.

Sansa whimpered and shut her eyes when he slammed on the breaks and she felt the car slow down and swerve to the right. _She was not about to die in the snow. Not today. Not after everything else she had gone through_. Damn him.

"Damn you, Robb! Seriously?"

He corrected the SUV with some difficulty, slowing to a crawl.

"You know, even a cousin could provide more for you than I ever could. You can still marry a cousin. The chances of birth defects in a baby are lowered if it's from cousins and not siblings." He refused to look at her.

Tears started behind her eyes. She couldn't believe what he was saying. How many times did she reassure him that a piece of paper meant nothing to her, that she didn't think she was made for motherhood? Neither one mattered to her. Only Robb mattered, the only man she truly loved and trusted with her life. _Only him_.

"I don't want to marry a cousin, or have a child. Please, just stop this!"

"You're not yet twenty-seven. You don't know what you might feel in a few years."

"Don't tell me what I feel or might feel. I was only thirteen when you said you loved me. Have I changed my mind? Have you? Why would I change now?"

"Can we not argue? I mean, can we just save it? It's the holidays for fucks sake!"

"You started it by calling me a coward!"

He sighed, closing his eyes for a second. He pulled the car off to the side of the road and came to a complete stop. Sansa looked behind her. Not that it mattered anyway; there was never anyone on the road this far up. He slammed the car in park but kept it running as turned toward her. _Ah, those eyes, so brightly blue and always so full of emotion _.__

____

"I'm sorry, Sansa."

____

He was contrite; she heard it in his voice and saw it in his eyes. She reached up to caress his cheek, thumbing over his scruff.

____

"Let's just have the holiday dinner and then leave immediately. Besides, you haven't given me my Christmas gift yet."

____

Robb smiled then, the lines around his mouth and eyes crinkling.

____

"That sounds more like the Sansa I used to know. Greedy for gifts."

____

"I'm greedy for _you_ , my love. Any gift from you is wanted...and _needed_."

____

"Well, if you can jut wait until we get back home, then I will give you your gift." He chuckled. "You can be such a child sometimes."

____

"Can't you give me a gift _now_ ?" She smiled, unbuckling her seat belt and leaning into him, her hand on his thigh. She heard his breath hitch. Then, to her extreme disappointment, he shook his head.

____

"Sansa, no."

____

"Robb," she tried to purr seductively. "We won't be able to so much as hold hands once we get there -"

____

"And this morning wasn't enough to tide you over?" 

____

"No."

____

"Sansa -"

____

"Robb," she whined, impatient. " The last time we drove up here you denied me. Why push me away now?"

____

"It's cold. It's snowing. I -"

____

She cut him off with kisses, soft and charming and entreating. She knew he wouldn't be able to resist for long. Confident, she moved her lips to his ear.

____

"I want to feel you leaking out of me while I make polite conversation during our family dinner."

____

_Goodbye resolve_ , she thought, as he moaned at her words and reached for her, pulling her in to his mouth. Triumphantly she fumbled for his seat belt while he fiddled with the seat release. Thank the gods for the space of an SUV. It was unfortunate there were so many clothes between them, but beggars can't be choosers. She wasted little time in ungracefully squirming out of her coat and her pants; she wondered how in the hell all the movies made car sex look so hot when she was awkwardly trying to get just enough clothes off to take him inside of her. It was fairly daunting and he seemed to smoothly shed his jacket and unzip his jeans before helping her - _well, wait, how does this work anyway_ -

____

Obviously Robb has had car sex before; she tried not to think too much on it as he easily reclined his seat and pulled her to him. Her pants and thong are still tangled around her left leg as she straddled him and he guided himself into her, his hands bringing her hips down. She cried out softly and he moaned, low and guttural. It wasn't close enough for her but it had to be enough..they couldn't very well strip naked, could they?

____

She leaned down to kiss him, twining her fingers in his hair, his soft, product-free curls feeling like silk against her skin. She held on to his head for dear life. She felt his tongue against hers, gentle and caressing, even as their mouths worked furiously. She felt him thrust inside her in a lazy rhythm as if they had all the time in the world. For a second she envisioned a police officer coming up the way and catching them and how he would react. She didn't know if she should giggle or be terrified at the thought. It didn't matter anyway when she felt his hand leave her hip to rub fingers down against her already swollen nub. Breaking from his lips, she threw her head back with a moan and quickened her pace, riding him wantonly.

____

There was nothing like this. Nothing like the feeling of him fully sheathed inside of her, filling her, fitting her so perfectly. _He was completely hers_. She wanted to stay like this. She didn't want to go to Winterfell and be denied his touch. _She didn't want to be his sister. She wanted to be his love_.

____

"Robb. Robb - let's go home -let's- go away -" She felt his hand grip her waist harder. " _Please_ -"

____

"Sansa." His whisper was pleading.

____

"Yes, yes! Let's leave the city, the country, together. Ah. Somewhere we can be free to love each other without fear of being found out -"

____

Instead of replying, he reached up to bring her back down to him, his thrusts harder more demanding, one hand curled around her neck and the other still working her over. His mouth covered hers, stopping her begging, and she moaned deep into his mouth as she came. It was pure bliss, and he followed; she felt the pulsing as she bore down on him, taking him in this final time as deep as she possibly could. It hurt a little but it was glorious.

____

"Robb." She collapsed into him and he held her tight.

"We need to get going, love." He was breathless. "We are almost there."

____

She was aware of the car still running, aware of her clothes being half off, and also aware that he didn't respond to her demands to leave their current life behind so that they could truly be together.

____

Silently, she moved off of him, judiciously swiping tissues from her purse to clean up as best they could and adjusted their clothes. She hated the feeling of loss. She felt empty and not right. Some of the emptiness subsided as his hand reached for hers and brought it to his warm, wet lips for tiny kisses after they clicked in their seat belts and started on the road again. 

____

She closed her eyes at the sweet touch.

____

There was no way she was going to give up on the thought of leaving everything behind to have a life with Robb. _She just wouldn't_.

____


	29. Christmas Eve With The Starks

Jon sat bewildered and at a loss for good conversation. Not a rare thing, it was quite typical, but he thought being around family only would improve his insufficient social graces, especially since it was a Christmas Eve dinner. He was obviously wrong but he could understand some of the uncomfortable air around him when he glanced at Sansa every now and then. That was to be expected. He just didn't anticipate everyone else being off; he could feel the tension rolling off of everyone.

Every time he looked across the table to Sansa, her gaze would drop to her plate, finding the duck and dressing suddenly very interesting, or she would dart her eyes over to Gendry and Arya, mutely pleading for them to keep up the conversation so she could avoid just about everything. She looked beautiful; slightly flushed, her hair pulled back in a messy bun and her face bare of any makeup, letting her natural beauty shine through. She scarcely even bothered to look at Robb, who sat next to her on the right. Yes, she engaged in some polite talk but mostly just listened while everyone chattered. He wouldn't have thought anything about it normally, because that had been Sansa's way since the murders, but the memory of him outright demanding he fuck her was clouding his certainty on everything where she was concerned.

He looked across the table at Robb and met his steady stare. Could Robb see the guilt? It seemed like he could, the way he was studying him. In fact, Robb hadn't been overly friendly since they walked into the house. He assumed Sansa kept what happened from Robb, otherwise he would have been greeted with a punch instead of a cold hello, or they might not have shown up at all. But he couldn't be certain. After all, Robb and Sansa were so close and shared everything, although Jon didn't think Sansa would willingly tell her brother that her cousin went down on her. He and Robb always got along well, more like brothers than cousins, even if they never hung out in the same social circle. Yet this evening Robb was not his usual self, adding to Jon's paranoia.

Knowing his own poker face left something to be desired, he turned his attentions to Arya and Gendry, trying to ignite some conversation their way, but damned if he couldn't focus on Gendry talking business and other mundane things. Arya was oddly quiet. It made Jon uncomfortable. She had talked about as much as Sansa had since they arrived. She just sat, staring over in Sansa's direction, her eyes slightly narrowed and a thoughtful expression on her face. For a moment Jon thought it made her look almost ethereal with her face so still. It was almost like she was studying Sansa, looking for something, but what it might be Jon didn't know. Her demeanor towards Gendry was different as well; usually they were so playful together, and it seemed the air of fun compatibility was missing from their dynamic.

Jon felt like asking all of them why they showed up if they weren't in the mood for a family dinner. One thing he knew, he wasn't going to be doing this again any time soon. He just didn't feel like being alone at home on Christmas Eve. He had broken things off with Ygritte. The guilt from Sansa ate away at him so he did the only gentlemanly thing he could think of and let her go. He refused to be the unfaithful boyfriend to the unsuspecting girlfriend. She took it well after spewing a few crass insults and punching him. It reminded him of Arya and how she probably would have reacted to the same situation. Ygritte was so much like Arya, actually, only taller and red-haired. Jon had loved her, or thought he did, but it was only fair to end it. 

"So, Jon, where's Ygritte?" Robb's voice startled him. Jon cursed in his head, noting Robb's silky smooth yet restrained tone.

"We aren't seeing each other anymore," he stated flatly, trying to look him straight in the eyes as if everything was normal. _Was anything ever normal with the Stark family_ ?

Arya let out an audible gasp. Jon avoided Sansa's eyes as he looked at Robb and was startled to see his jaw clench and eyes light angrily before turning to look at Sansa with a scathing look. Sansa poked at her duck with her fork and blushed. Jon tried to swallow, suddenly nervous. Robb knew. He knew. Sansa at some point had confessed to him what happened while he was away on business. Oh shit.

Thankfully Arya spoke first.

"What the fuck is _that_ all about, Jon? I mean, you two have been together for so long. I thought you two were, like, perfect for each other. Sure you are polar opposites but you know, opposites attract and all. I mean -"

Jon's phone dinged.

"Sorry," he mumbled, taking it out of his pocket to look at it. Saved by a weather update. Well, sort of. "Looks like the snow isn't going to let up any time soon. I am thinking you all might need to spend the night. It's dark already and they are calling for possibly eight more inches by midnight."

"Great, a slumber party." Arya seemed to find her voice again and was acting like her usual self. "Man, Gendry and I didn't bring along out footie pajamas."

"There's bathrobes in the main hall closet upstairs at least," Jon said. "Plus you know your old rooms are always ready for you."

"Yeah, thanks Jon. Maybe I'll be able to bone Gendry in my old room, kind of a kink, you know?"

Despite the sour moods at the table and Jon not wanting to entertain the thought of Arya screwing anyone, Jon smiled. Arya always knew how to make him smile. He happened to look across to Robb and Sansa. They both seemed focused on their plates. Sansa bit her lip and shifted in her seat while Robb stabbed at the remaining pieces of meat on his plate.

"You know," Jon tried to speak evenly, I get the impression that no one really wants to be here."

"Jon! That's not true. I wanted to see you and enjoy some family time." Arya was startled by his statement even as she looked at Gendry with her eyebrows raised.

"Sansa? Robb?" Jon was feeling bold. Even if Robb knew what happened, there was no reason for him to be acting this way. Sansa was not his property. She could be with whomever she wanted, even though maybe the cousin aspect was freaking Robb out.

In unison they raised their eyes to meet his. Jon was struck with how much alike they were, with their red hair, blue eyes, and pale skin. Even their expressions were the same. He wondered if their thoughts were the same. Sansa spoke first.

"You are _family_ , Jon." It was a simple statement but Jon suddenly realized that whatever it was between them was over before it could really begin. It struck him all at once and he felt an ache in his chest.

"Yes, well, I think the dinner is pretty much over. If you guys want to move it into the living room, maybe we can catch some mundane holiday movies, drink some adult beverages, and watch the snow. I will join you later. I want to check on the horses and dogs. I've been doing it anyway for the past week. Ramsay has been a no-show all week so he's fired, if I ever hear from him again. I've been wanting to interview, but with the holidays -"

"Ramsay's AWOL?" Sansa sounded shocked. "He's been working at Winterfell for years."

"Yes, he had, and he has a very dedicated work ethic. He might not be the kindest of people but I've had not one complaint about what he does here. It's not like him to not call in. Last time I saw him, he was heading out with Joffrey and that was over a week ago. Come to think of it, neither have been seen around."

A clanking of a dropped fork dragged his attentions away from Sansa to Gendry. He was confused when he saw Gendry staring at Arya with something in his eyes Jon had never seen directed at her before: anger and hurt. Even more odd that Arya cast her eyes down, Sansa-style, at her plate and said nothing. Jon tensed, then frowned. He had enough of this dinner and got up unceremoniously to leave.

No one said much of anything except thank you for the meal as they all cleared their plates away.

Jon hated to admit he just needed the break from Sansa more than anything. All he could think about when he looked at her was how she looked and felt in his arms. She was beautiful and broken and he loved her, but he knew there was nothing he could do for her. He was still so confused over the sudden attraction and the way she pushed herself onto him the night of the dinner date, and there was no one he could unburden his feelings to, no one who could convince him that he was confusing reality with something that didn't exist except in his imagination.

He sighed, allowing his gaze to take in his family as they made their way to the den. Gendry walked stiffly in front of Arya, practically ignoring her, and Robb and Sansa sauntered easily side by side. Jon lagged behind all four of them, veering off in the other direction to grab his coat and boots. He paused for a moment and frowned. 

It happened so quickly that perhaps he wasn't processing it in his brain correctly. 

_Maybe it was the dim lighting down the length of the hall or his mind playing tricks on him_.

_It had to be_.

Robb had leaned in close to Sansa, his hand snaking up around her shoulder to draw her to him...and his lips pressed briefly to her exposed neck...while she leaned into his touch.

He blinked, trying to rationalize and shrug it off.

He knew one thing for sure; he was going to break out the eggnog and wine when he came back.


	30. In Your Room

Robb lay in his old bed, hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling in the pitch black darkness.

He just wanted to be with Sansa, alone. He cursed the weather, cursed Jon, cursed the whole evening, cursed himself for not listening to Sansa and staying home. The could be making love by the fireplace like she wanted. Instead he was in his cold-ass bed alone, frustrated, angry, and unfortunately nowhere near drunk enough to pass the fuck out. He only had two glasses of wine, not enough to even register.

He was forced to admit the only reason he came up here was to see Jon and Sansa in the same room and how they interacted with each other. Sizing up the competition like an insecure, immature jerk. The dinner itself was evidence enough that there was something there, even if both of them would vehemently deny it until the day they died. Robb sensed it, saw it, and it ripped his heart apart. He was at a loss of what to do, what to say. All he could do was be a brother and sit next to the woman he loved like one of the stone statues in their garden at home. He couldn't even corner her alone for a five-minute conversation. He felt Arya and Jon's eyes on them constantly, and the paranoia set in as well as a small defiant streak.

Kissing her on the neck in the hallway was something he couldn't resist. He also couldn't help but to sit next to her on the couch, moving in as close as he respectably could, just to be able to breathe in her scent. The small satisfaction he had at Jon returning from the stables and sitting as far away from Sansa as possible dissipated when her surmised that Jon was keeping his distance from her on purpose. He observed in silent agony how Sansa refused to meet Jon's eyes, instead focusing on the movie and nursing her small cup of eggnog. He knew one thing for sure: they were not coming back to Winterfell again anytime soon if he could help it. He didn't even care about the deterioration of his closeness with Jon. To him, all Jon had become was a rival for Sansa's affections. Robb wanted no rivals. He had done too much for Sansa, all for Sansa and he would not stand by and willingly let someone else take her away from him.

He closed his eyes. _All he saw behind his eyelids was Sansa_.

She had pleaded with him to run away to any place where no one knew them. He didn't place too much credence in her request as he didn't see it as a honest, true emotion. It felt like she was only saying it due to her fear of what she was feeling for Jon, wanting to escape it, and it hurt. He also feared she would end up hating him for it if they did leave their life behind, hate him for keeping her from exploring whatever it was she felt for Jon.

The silence in the house was deafening. He wondered if Sansa was already fast asleep. He heard Arya and Gendry earlier; it sounded like they were arguing but it was so muffled that he couldn't be sure. Her and Sansa's room was in the opposite wing. The argument seemed like it was coming from Bran's old room, which was close to his. He assumed they picked Bran's room to sleep in until he heard the door slam and angry footsteps pounding away. He wanted to get up and see what it was all about, but he wasn't in the mood to deal with someone else's relationship problems.

_Sansa_.

He used to like the darkness of his old room. Now, he was flooded with memories of Sansa in here. The first time he told her he was in love with her. Their first passionate kiss while watching a movie, the first time he touched her intimately, the first time he gave her an orgasm. Yes, the first time she laid naked in his arms and they accidentally feel asleep...and the feeling of waking up holding her (and the panic of making sure Sansa was in her room before their parents woke up). He also remembered the night before she left for the cabin and the angry, heated argument they had before she ran out of the room in angry tears. _If only he could go back_...

_Enough_.

He sat up in bed.

He couldn't help himself. The draw of her, the lure of her was too much for him to resist. His mind told him to wait; they would be leaving tomorrow morning as soon as it was daylight. He didn't care how long it took, he would get them home. But his heart beat fast, knowing she was lying alone in her bed, needing him. He knew she needed him. _What if she was already with Jon_ ? Maybe Jon had already slipped into her room. The thought infuriated him, motivated him, although he had no idea what he might do if it was true.

Before he knew it he was out of his room, clad in his t-shirt and boxers, cautiously padding down the long hallway like a thief in the night. He paused at Jon's room and heard nothing, and there was no light shining underneath the door. _Was that a good or bad thing_ ?

Creeping on, he walked past Bran's room..then Rickon's. He had forgotten just how massive Winterfell Estate was; he was used their much smaller four bedroom house. Or maybe it just seemed like an eternity to get to Sansa's room, which was still beyond Arya's, separated by a full bathroom and two storage closets. Arya's door was shut, no light underneath, no noise. Well, that was something, at least.

Sansa's door was also shut but their was a faint light underneath.

He hesitated and looked over his shoulder. Somehow the idea of having to sneak around not only angered him, but it aroused him as well. He was hard before he even tried the doorknob. The door gave way silently and for an instant he prayed Jon wasn't already in her bed...or that her bed wasn't barren.

Stepping inside, he breathed a sigh of relief. She was lying in bed on her back. The nightstand lamp was on the lowest setting, casting a hazy glow in the room. He weakly gave the door a push to shut it as he made his way to her. She wasn't sleeping and she propped herself up on her elbows to look up at him; he could see her bare shoulders and the top of her breasts under the covers. She was _naked_. For a moment he envisioned her in the blue medieval gown that fateful night of the party; she was in the same position and he felt the same overwhelming lust for her. This time, she met his eyes with desire and a small smirk graced her lips, and he knew she was remembering the angry, desperate rutting as well.

"Robb," she breathed. "Robb."

"I couldn't help myself, Sansa. I can't sleep without you." He wasn't lying with that.

"You shouldn't be here," she whispered as he advanced toward her. "If anyone was awake and saw you -"

"No one is awake. I checked."

He reached the bed and sat down on the edge, reaching out to touch her face as she clutched the covers to her. She leaned into him and he kissed her, soft and smooth. Her lips were cold. Suddenly, she pulled away.

"Robb, we can't. What if Jon -"

"What if Jon _what_ , Sansa?"

"What if he came in and saw -"

His jaw clenched and his whole body tensed.

"And why would Jon _think_ of coming in here, Sansa?"

"I- I don't know." She looked away, biting her lip. "I just meant -"

"Oh, I know what you _meant_ , my love." His whisper was louder now, his words biting. "Do you think I am blind? Do you forget I know you better than anyone? I'm not stupid, Sansa, so drop the innocent act."

"Keep your voice down, Robb, you have no idea what you are talking about."

He narrowed his eyes at her. She was patronizing in her tone, talking down to him and he pulled her to him roughly.

"I saw you the whole fucking night. Only a guilty conscience would make you act that way. You already confessed to me about what happened...or did you? Was there more to it and you just decided to leaving something out?"

"More?" She was raising her voice to just above a whisper. She trembled in his grasp. "I don't know what you are getting at. I didn't leave anything out. I told you what happened. There are no secrets between us."

"Do you love him?" She looked at him square in the eyes and he saw the shock.

"I love _you_."

"Answer me."

She shook her head while letting go of the covers to hold her face in her hands. He couldn't help but drink in the sight of her exposed breasts and wondered if she did it on purpose to distract him. Of course she did. She always knew how to handle him. He wanted to leave her, to get up and storm out, but he knew he couldn't.

"I love you, Robb, _only you_. I don't know what else to say." Her bottom lip quivered, her eyes widening.

He crashed his lips against hers in desperation and she instantly returned his kiss just as fiercely, over and over, her hands running through his hair, clasping around his neck to pull him closer. He felt her nip at his bottom lip, harder than what she normally did, and he tasted rust. It inflamed him. He tore off his shirt and threw her covers aside to draw her against his chest, reveling in the feel of flesh against flesh. She was a cooling balm to his heated skin.

He broke away to hastily remove his boxers, feeling her hands skimming over his shoulders and down his back. He need her. He needed this. He needed to possess her.

"Sansa," he moaned, leaning into her again. He threaded his fingers through her long locks, kissing her face, her neck. He couldn't devour her fast enough.

"My Robb." Her breathing quickened, growing louder with every touch, every kiss.

"Yes, I _am_ yours," he muttered against her skin between kisses." I've _always_ been yours and will always be yours, no matter _who_ or _what_ comes between us -"

__

She moved away, lying back on the bed, her hair fanning out around her on the pillow. He paused for a moment. She was so beautiful, so perfect. 

__

_He wondered if Jon thought the same thing when he saw her this way_.

__

He needed to stop it. Let it go.

__

_It wouldn't stop. It wouldn't let go_.

__

Leaning into her, he tried to drive out his thoughts by kissing, licking, touching her everywhere with frantic urgency, working his way down her writhing body, listening to her short pants and whimpers of desire. He bit at the inside of her thighs, hands pushing her legs far part, hearing her little moans increasing. Moving to her center he took long, precise licks through her folds, which were already soaking wet with her arousal. He looked up at her; her eyes were closed, her head rolling side to side as she gripped the sheets.

__

"Sansa," he muttered, his hands still holding her legs apart. "I want you to _look at me_."

__

She opened her eyes then, looking down at him with a heated gaze, her mouth slightly open.

__

"I want you to look at me so you know who it is licking and fucking you. I am not going to have three people in this bed."

__

"Robb -"

__

"I mean it, Sansa. I don't want you closing your eyes and imagining I'm Jon."

__

She opened her mouth as if to protest but instead bit down on her lip as he picked up where he left off, tilting his head up so he could still watch her watching him. She tasted so sweet to him. He kept his eyes on her as he kept his tongue slow, steady and rhythmic, lapping into her with long, slow, wet licks. Seeing her looking down at him with naked lust and want aroused him even more. He felt her tense and he knew she was getting close. He didn't want her to climax. Not until he was inside of her.

__

He withdrew his tongue to move up her body while she emitted protesting whimpers, all the while staring into his eyes. He suddenly knelt in an upright stance, reaching down to yank her up to him. He heard her gasp in surprise and felt her hardened nipples pressed to him as her hands tightened around his neck, nails digging in.

__

"Fuck, Sansa," he groaned, savoring the sting. She leaned in to kiss him passionately when he grabbed her by the waist and pulled her off the bed and straight down to the floor. They landed with a thud and Sansa yelped, falling down on top of him. He reached up to silence her with kisses.

__

"Shhhh.. don't wake the house, love," he said in between kisses. "I don't want us soiling the sheets, so I am going to fuck you senseless on the floor. I will fuck any thoughts of your broody little cousin straight out of your head." He heard a low _yes_ moaning from her strangled voice.

__

His cock was straining, rock-hard, demanding to fill her. He rolled her over to her back but only for a moment, reaching down to move her onto her stomach, and she seemed a bit confused until her reached around and underneath her to place his hand just below her belly button.

__

"On your _hands and knees_ , Sansa," he growled, pushing his hand up slightly to encourage her. She did as he demanded, and in the dim light he took in the sight of her small, round, perfect ass presented before him. On his knees now, he moved his leg to nudge her knees further apart and he almost came at view he had of her glistening, pink, inviting pussy from behind. _Such a lovely sight_. He had never taken her this way before and suddenly wondered why the hell he hadn't.

__

He wasted no time in grabbing her waist with one hand and guiding his cock slowly into her with the other; she moaned low and deep while Robb fought for control. She was slick but tight and he was surrounded by her warmth.

__

"Jesus Christ, your perfect little cunt feels so good." He didn't care if that came out louder than he expected, especially since Sansa moaned. She loved it when he would get a little dirty with his words, and he felt her constricting around him. He started to move, pulling almost all the way out and then back in again in a painfully slow pace, watching his cock sliding in and out, each time becoming more wet with her secretions. He thought he would die happy right then and there when he heard her barely stifled cries each time he pushed in slowly as deep as he could go.

__

"You feel so perfect to me, my love. Every part of you is made just for me." He leaned into her, still taking it slow, relishing the feeling. He reached out to brush her hair to one side, letting it stream down her neck and over her breasts, then he hovered over her to kiss the back of her neck and down her spine. She shivered and whimpered.

__

He raised up, one hand still firm on her waist as he moved. His other settled on the small of her back, skimming up, his fingers tracing along her scarring.

__

"You are so beautiful. Your skin is beautiful. Your _back_ is beautiful. _All_ of you is beautiful to me, Sansa. I love you as you are, my love." Something inside him sparked, dark and unbidden. He leaned into her, his mouth reaching her ear. "Would _Jon_ be able to say the same?"

__

"Robb, please -"

__

"No, I want you to know. I accept you as you are." His thrusting increasing slightly. "I've seen _all_ of you, your body, your emotions, you heart. The good and bad. I love it _all_. I love your skin, your scars."

__

He raised up again, gripping her hips, thrusting faster, penetrating her balls deep; hearing her moans increase drove him wild as he felt her pushing back into him, taking all of him in.

__

"Oh gods, Robb, harder. _Please_ !" She cried it out so sweetly, gasping, and he obeyed, gripping her tighter.

__

"I love you, Sansa. My love, my life, my sweet sister -" Blindly, madly, he reached his hand down and underneath her to work her clit. His fingers were instantly drenched. 

__

"Sansa, your cunt is so wet. So perfect. _Just for me_."

__

"And your big cock feels so perfect to me. I love you fucking me. It's all I want. _Only_ you. _Always_ you. God Robb, your fingers on my clit- _your fingers_ -"

__

Her voice hitched and he almost lost it with her words ringing in his ears; for his sweet little Sansa to talk dirty, it was just to much for him to handle. He felt her start to tighten and knew she was about to cum. He reached down and pulled her up from the floor, still on her knees, and held her against his chest, still thrusting hard into her. Her arms flew up and she clasped her hands behind his neck, her head thrown back against his shoulder in ecstasy. Just in time, his left arm snaked down, holding her steady while his fingers still rubbed her clit as his right hand flew up to her mouth, muffling her cries. Her violent pulses around him drove him to the final edge as he came, sinking his teeth into her neck to quiet his own moans. She shuddered, nipping into the palm of her hand.

__

She fell limp against him, spent, and they collapsed to the floor. He wrapped both arms around her, staying inside of her as long as he was able. He listened for any noise outside the room and heard nothing.

__

"Robb."

__

"Yes, love."

__

"Can we - stay like this for awhile?"

__

"As long as you like." He meant it. This is where he belonged, where she belonged. They belonged together. Until they no longer breathe. 

__

"You will need to go back to your room though. Just in case."

__

Robb nodded into her neck, gently kissing the mark he had made. He knew he had to leave before they were found out. Deep inside, part of him wished Jon had found them. Then, he wouldn't want Sansa anymore. _His_ Sansa.

__

She was his. Always. _Forever_.

__

He sighed deeply, closing his eyes, taking in the scent of her skin.

__


	31. Losses

As soon as the door shut behind her, Arya met Gendry's cold, accusing eyes. She never backed down from anything in her life, and this would be no exception, even as she cringed inwardly at his expression. Never has Gendry ever looked at her with anything other than love, patience, and reverence, with a touch of annoyance sometimes.

He had made his way to the lounge chair by her bed, seated, his powerful body hunched over as he folded his hands in front of him like a prayer.

_Praying for control, most likely_.

The dinner night started out so promising. She loved the idea of being at Winterfell with Jon, spending the holiday with him. The estate was decorated so beautifully and it struck Arya as a dreamy winter wonderland, like something from a cheesy calendar or sweet-toothed movie. Jon was his usual dapper self, dressed to perfection. He even dropped his usual pensive personality, a rare thing when he was around other people. He seemed so happy to see her, embracing her with their usual hug-and-twirl, bringing disapproval to Gendry's already troubled-looking face.

Then Robb and Sansa showed up.

Arya was surprised at their arrival, with the inclement weather approaching. Of course also with Sansa's obvious distaste for any social setting, she knew Robb would not come without her. She eyed the two eldest Starks. Both so alike, so close, so perfect and beautiful and graceful. Joffrey planted seeds in her head that sprouted twisted vines in her mind, and now all she can do is view them through incestuous-colored glasses. She was still not convinced. Nothing about their demeanor screamed lovers to her, and she was still clinging to the opinion that Joff had lied to shock her, take the blame off him, and let her focus in a direction that had nothing to do with the murders.

On the other hand, she also studied Jon with Sansa, and wondered at their odd interactions. They were never close growing up, everyone knew that. Jon always preferred her company instead and stayed away from Sansa, which wasn't hard to do since she never gave a second glance to their handsome but withdrawn cousin. But now? Arya sensed tension between them. Was it that stupid little kiss at the party? Really, why act so weird over a meaningless kiss? She didn't understand it in the first place. Why would Jon even want to kiss someone like Sansa? Ygritte was the type of woman Jon always went for: fierce, independent, and strong, with a streak of fire and will. Not simpering, clinging, reserved, fluff-centric girls like Sansa.

The dinner went off without a hitch to start with, even if she did notice Robb and Sansa weren't much for conversations. The duck was perfect, the wine was wonderful...then Jon mentioned Ramsay Bolton not showing up for work. From that point on, Gendry said very little to her, even when they sat on the loveseat to watch movies. There really hadn't been a good time to talk privately until now, when everyone went to bed either tipsy or drained from the strained night. Originally she had been looking forward to tackling Gendry in her old bedroom, but now she knew that prospect was out of the picture.

"So, are you going to tell me what the fuck has your panties in a twist?" She didn't mean to sound so harsh, but her nerves were shot and she wanted this confrontation over with.

"Arya, do you think I'm stupid?"

"I don't know what you're talking about so just give it to me straight."

He stood up, walking to her, towering over her petite frame.

"What the _fuck_ did you do to Ramsay Bolton?"

_Ramsay. Right. Of course_. Gendry's attitude toward her changed after Jon mentioned Ramsay's excessive absences at work.

"Why do you think I did anything to Ramsay fucking Bolton?"

"Just stop it, Arya!"

She swallowed and looked up at him, tilting her head to one side.

"I don't know what you mean so spit it out."

"I told you, _no more_ !" His voice raised, boomed almost. "No more, and if you came up with solid evidence we could have the case re-opened. You agreed to it and now I know you _lied_ to me."

"Gendry -" She went numb.

"Enough, Arry. Just stop. I don't want to hear lies. I don't want to hear anything, really. You went behind my back after I asked you not to. I overheard you talking to Jon about the damned murders after you thought I went to bed. So, just tell me. Did you cut him? Kill him with a bullet between the eyes?"

She couldn't speak.

"Arya, if not for me Joffrey would be six feet under by now. He might not be much of a human being but I won't condone the murder of anyone, especially when you have no solid proof that he committed a crime." He closed his eyes and ran his fingers through his coal black hair. "I'm not going to sit by while you take a life. What am I to think, when you have been talking about Joffrey not acting alone? Who has been his sidekick? Hell, has anyone seen _Myranda_ around?"

"You don't care about justice -"

"This _isn't_ justice and you know it! Justice is _not_ a knife cutting down someone's back!"

"Can we not do this now -"

"When, Arya? When!"

Her head was swimming. How could she reply? She wanted to scream at him, throw things, hurt him like he was hurting her, but she couldn't bring herself to even reply.

That's what I thought. I am going to spend the night in Bran's room. I am leaving the first thing in the morning and I am going alone. Stay here with Jon for a few days, you seem to prefer his company anyway. I'll leave you money for a cab."

"Gendry -" 

He rushed past her and down the long hall to Bran's room. She ran after him, hoping no one could hear them arguing. 

"Can you please just wait a minute -"

He leaned in the doorway, shooting daggers with his eyes.

"I've given you chances, Arya. I don't want to talk about this anymore. I'm done. I am leaving alone and to be honest, I just don't want to see you for awhile."

"Goddamn it -"

"Keep your voice down. We are in Jon's home and fighting like this is disrespectful."

" _Disrespectful_ ? Are you kidding? How respectful are you being towards me?"

"I could be _much worse_. Goodnight, Arya."

The door shut in her face and she heard it being locked from the inside. _Damn him_.

"Merry fucking Christmas Eve!" She gave in to her immaturity for a second.

Storming back to her room, seething and hurt, she threw herself on the bed and screamed into the pillow. This was their first serious argument. They've had disagreements before, sparred, bickered, picked, but nothing like this. She pulled back from her pillow which was now wet with tears.

What had she become? A vigilante? A cold-blooded killer? All she wanted was justice for her parents, her brother, her sister. Wasn't it just to want an eye for an eye? Was she turning into some inhuman creature that Gendry wouldn't be able to love anymore? Jon understood. Jon never judged her, he would never judge her, but he was the only one. She didn't want praise or approval for what she had done; she only wanted validation.

She tossed and turned in the dark, trying her best to fall asleep. Her eyes closed, she dozed fitfully, unable to actually commit to sleep. Every fifteen minutes or so her eyes would open to take in the time. It was so quiet she swore she lay in a crypt, not a bed. She liked a little background noise.

_2:37 am. Awesome_.

Maybe some leftover eggnog would help, or a late-night cheesy movie. She had wanted to watch 'Bad Santa' with everyone but of course she was outnumbered so they ended up watching 'A Christmas Story' for the billionth time. She just needed to unwind. Regroup her thoughts and emotions and get Gendry to listen to her...somehow.

_Fuck this noise. Or, rather, lack thereof_.

She quietly stepped out of her room, ninja-style, intending to make her way down the hall to the staircase, when she heard something like a _thud_. Coming from Sansa's room?

_What the fuck did she do, fall out of bed_ ?

She looked down past the bathroom and saw a faint light under Sansa's door. Apparently she was still up? Maybe she fell asleep with the light on.

Treading lightly to Sansa's door, she froze. The door wasn't completely shut. There was about a two-inch crack.

She heard a voice first.

" - _Seen all of you, your body, your emotions, your heart...good and bad, and I love it all. I love your skin, your scars_ -"

Ice flooded her veins and she stopped breathing. _Robb_. Robb's voice sounding like nothing she's heard from him before but she could still tell it was her brother. She moved to look into the space in the door, her eyes darting, adjusting to the haze of the light and then taking in the surreal vision on the floor by the bed. She could see her brother - her handsome, perfect brother - kneeling with his back towards her, fucking their sister from behind. Horrified that her eyes went straight to his well-formed, muscled ass, she moved her stare to the flame-red hair streaming down the side of her sister's head. Bile immediately rose in her throat.

" _Would Jon be able to say the same_ ?"

_Jon_ ? What, Jon wanted Sansa, too? _What alternate universe was this_ ? Arya thought she was going to pass out. Instinctively her tapered fingers grazed the door to push it open only a sliver more. It made no noise but even if it had, she doubted Robb would have heard it, as heavy as he was breathing and grunting and talking. She heard Sansa's moans and cries...she was saying something so low Arya couldn't hear but she could hear the slapping noise of Robb slamming into her faster...as well as see it.

_This wasn't real. It wasn't real. No. No_...

" _Love you, Sansa. My love, my life, my sweet sister_ -" 

Endearments. Loving words for his sister, the sister he loved best. Of course. _Of course_. Yes. Nothing but the best from everyone for Sansa. _Even their own brother_.

" _Sansa, you cunt is so wet. So perfect. Just for me_ -"

The vomit was in her throat. She wanted to carve her ears out. Her brother's lust-filled filthy talk in his deep, raspy voice was now forever emblazoned in her memory.

" _I love you fucking me. Only you. Always you. God Robb, your fingers_ -"

She heard her sister now. Hate and shock and jealousy seared her brain.

Fucking Joffrey Baratheon was _right_. That little motherfucker was _right_.

She swallowed. Her mouth was dry and she felt like she stopped breathing. She couldn't look away even though she wanted to tear her eyeballs out from her head. She took in the completely feral scene of Robb yanking Sansa up against him, his hand over her mouth, his head bent into her neck.

_Fucking Christ_. They came. She heard them climax. She watched her responsible, smart, popular brother and he pretty, perfect, adored sister fuck each other in a way she never had with Gendry; raw, primitive, intense. _Jesus_. Her whole upper body seemed in pain as she backed away from the door, her body flooded in numbness. She wanted to scream and cry and rage, burst in on them and expose them, but instead she stealthily left, never really feeling her legs spiriting her away from the nightmare she just witnessed.

_She lost Gendry and her brother and her sister in a matter of a few hours_.

Her entire body and her mind went blank. She wasn't even sure where her legs were taking her. All she knew was that tears were silently dripping onto her chest.


	32. Denial

Jon was thankful his room was the last one one in the right wing of the second floor. It was secluded, dark, and silent. It originally was his Uncle Ned and Aunt Cat's room, but since he took residence there were no remnants of their decorative tastes. Jon liked the gothic doom and gloom and felt more at home in his bed than anywhere else in the missive mansion.

Once again he found himself naked under his covers, tense and thinking of Sansa, only this time his thoughts were mostly of bewilderment. She was avoiding him, avoiding conversations with him, and refused to look at him, even after dinner. He wanted to try to talk to her alone but there was never a chance; she had planted herself firmly on the couch next to Robb. From the looks Robb shot him, he wasn't about to join them. He thought everyone heard his sigh of relief when Arya suggested they all retire for the evening. Or, as she put it, "I want to get some fucking sleep, I'm beat." He managed a smile in the darkness. _Typical Arya_.

Maybe everyone's mood would improve by the morning, including his own. Even Gendry was off. Jon had incredible patience but everyone was trying him and he just wanted to slink away into a merciful sleep.

So here was was. As usual, sleep avoided him.

He should have taken up his friend Sam's invitation for Christmas Eve instead.

He was tempted to turn the TV on but decided against it. He just needed to close his eyes, and sleep. It was already almost three in the morning. At least the snow had stopped falling. He thought about going to Sansa's room. He just wanted to talk to her. Just talk. Work the awkwardness out.

Rolling over, he faced the wall and closed his eyes.

The lull of slumber caressed him for a moment before he heard his door open and shut quietly. Startled, he turned over to the other side and sat up, running a hand through his mop of curls to see better. It was so dark he couldn't see a damn thing but he heard soft footsteps pad over to his bed.

"Sansa?" His eyes tried to adjust but he gave up and leaned over to turn on the light on his nightstand and turned back around, surprised. "Jesus! Arya??"

She looked at him, her dark grey eyes wide and staring, his lips pursed, twisted, her arms stiff at her sides and her hands in fists. Obviously she had just gotten out of the shower; her dark brown hair dripped water down over the plush bathrobe he'd left for her at the foot of her bed. He could see the anger in her eyes. He knew her like the back of his hand.

"Arya -what's wrong? Where's Gendry?"

She gave a little laugh then, something short and husky and eerie.

"Aren't you more concerned that I'm not who you were hoping I would be?"

Jon felt his face flush and was painfully aware of his nudity beneath the comforter.

"I don't know what you mean, Arya. I -"

She threw her head back and a strangled giggle came out. Jon didn't know what to do or say as she threw her hands up in the air and then clasped them around her neck as if to stop the words from coming out of her mouth that ended up spewing out anyway.

"Sansa, Sansa, Sansa. Everyone is so fucking interested in my sister." She came closer to him, within inches of his face. "You know, I came in here to let you know a little something about your precious Sansa, Jon. Really, I just tried to go back to bed and thought I could just let it all go for now, you know? Then I decided I needed a nice hot shower to wash away the imaginary dirt I had all over my fucking body."

Jon froze at the tone of her voice, at her words, at the sight of her bright pink skin. The shower must have been scalding. She was behaving in a way he had never seen before and for some reason it frightened him. 

"Arya, honey, just tell me what's wrong. You are worrying me -"

"Cut the shit, Jon, and don't call me honey. I'm not a goddamn twelve year old, in case you haven't noticed."

Instinctively he reached out and grabbed her hands away from her throat and held them tightly to his chest. Concern flooded him as he gently urged her to sit on the edge of his bed. She shook her head, her eyebrows furrowing, and she yanked her hands away.

"Don't treat me like a child. I haven't been a child for quite some time."

"Arya, you don't seem like yourself. Just tell me what's going on."

She narrowed her eyes and they were sharp, cruel.

"You want her, too, don't you? I mean, you thought I was her coming through your door. Tell me, Jon, were you thinking of paying Sansa a visit in her bedroom?" 

"Arya-"

"Don't even try to lie. I've had enough shit tonight and I don't want any shit from you."

"I don't need to explain myself or my actions in my own home." He tried to keep his tone gentle, cautious. "I was just startled at someone coming into my room at nearly three in the morning."

She laughed again and pounced on him so quickly he had no time to react; she grabbed both sides of his face, her nails digging into his scruff painfully. She was close enough to his face to kiss him. For a fleeting second he swore that was what she meant to do, and he was shocked to find he didn't want to pull away, but instead she exhaled and leered at him.

"Go ahead, Jon. _Go to her_. I know you want her. Go to her room, let her seduce you, and then let me know how she tastes with her brother's cum dripping out of her fucked cunt."

He shoved her off of him and she stumbled back off the bed, standing again. Shame and shock and anger flooded him but he only latched onto the latter. The pit of his stomach tightened and he stared at her, not comprehending, not wanting to process it.

"Yes, take a minute to let that sink in, just like I saw Robb sinking his dick into Sansa less than an hour ago."

He swallowed. It felt like someone had just punched him in the chest.

"Oh trust me, it wasn't a picnic, catching them," she spat. "So you think I wanted to see my god-like brother hunched over, rutting my perfect sister from behind like a goddamn dog in heat? Well, if it's any consolation to you, Sansa seemed to enjoy what Robb was giving her. _Quite a bit_ , actually."

He jumped from the bed then, temporarily forgetting his nudity, and grabbed her by the arm. Never had he touched Arya in such a way before. He could feel her toned but slim arm underneath her robe tense up.

"This is a serious and vile accusation, Arya," he whispered, looking dead straight into her eyes. "I wouldn't think that your jealously of her would extend this far."

"Accusations? Do you think I could just dream this shit up? What kind of sick little fuck do you think I am, anyway?"

Images flashed in his head at lightning speed. Robb, touching Sansa's neck with his lips in the hallway when he thought no one was looking. The look on Robb's face when he carried Sansa to bed the night Arya announced her engagement. The hand touches, waist-holding. The dances they shared at charity events. The angry stares when Sansa stayed behind to spend time with him at Winterfell. High School, College. The funeral, family gatherings - all the times Jon saw them together, always apart from everyone. Every look, every touch he ever witnessed between them...

"No," he whispered. " _No_."

"Oh yes, Jon. _Yes_. I know you don't want to see it but I saw it and I wish I could gouge my eyes out. I guess this is bad news for you. She doesn't want your-" she looked down pointedly-" _pretty_ cock. She's too hung up on Robb's horse dick."

He slapped her then, the smack resonating through the stillness of the room and sounding like thunder to his ears. She looked stunned for a second but emitted no sound. He froze, ashamed and horrified. He would never strike a woman, especially not Arya. She yanked free of him and laughed; a manic, crazed laugh.

"I suppose I had that coming for a long, long time. Although it is less deserved now than during some past times-"

"Stop it, Arya, or -"

"Or what, Jon?" She looked down again and smirked." I guess you _are_ finally awake."

_Jesus Fucking Christ_. The blood was rushing from his body straight to his cock and there was no hiding his firming cock. He looked blindly around the floor for his boxers. _This was not happening_. Silently he willed his body to cooperate. 

"I hate you, Jon, _I hate you_. You were the one person I could always confide in, be real with, and I come to unload my burden to you, and what do you do? You call me a liar and treat me like shit. All because you want to fuck Sansa. You're no better than the rest of them who have blinders on where she is concerned."

_Where was his goddamn underwear_ ? He felt tears stinging the back of his eyes. _No, No, this was not happening_. 

"I knew I should have just confronted them. You know what, I'm just going to go ahead and take care of that now. I've had enough of this whole fucking family drama." She turned and made strides to the door.

No.No. He wouldn't let her. _She can't. Not on Christmas day. Not here. Not with Sansa so mentally and emotionally fragile, not with Robb so on edge_. No. Without thinking he ran to her, catching her hand as it grasped the door handle.

"Get the _fuck_ away, Jon!" Her eyes were wild, furious.

"No."

"I said _get away_ !" She leered at him. "What are you going to do, slap me like a little bitch again?"

She went to shove him away and he caught her, whirling her against the wall by the door, pressing against her. Staring into her blazing eyes and gripping her shoulders, his mind went dark. Blank. His blood boiled. Something formed in him then, a jolt of primitive desire, something he never felt before. She looked up at him, narrowing her eyes. Before he knew what was happening, he leaned in and fiercely kissed her, biting her lip so hard he could taste blood. She responded for a moment but then resisted, shoving back on him, and it was her turn to slap _him_ in the face. It smarted but at the same time it made his cock even harder.

"Fuck _you_ , Jon, I'm not the cousin you want to fuck. _Fuck off_."

He shoved her back against the wall again, pressing his erection against her.

"I don't think that's _quite_ the truth, Arya."

His mind hummed while his heart raced. Desperation, denial, desire, whatever it was, it drove him to kiss her again; her lips were small and soft. His hands left her shoulders to tear off her robe. She wore nothing underneath and it ignited a flame within him. He had never seen her naked before, not even accidentally through all these years. She was toned, slim, but her breasts were full with dark-tipped nipples; in between her legs her hair was a neatly trimmed strip. _She was beautiful with a woman's body and he never even realized it_. She didn't struggle or protest as he ran his hands roughly over her body, finding the skin smooth and toned. He leaned in to kiss her again while his hand felt its way down her stomach and wedged in between her legs, finding her already wet, and it wasn't from her shower. He groaned into her mouth as he slipped two fingers inside, feeling her tight walls clenching. She moaned and reached up around his head to pull down on his curls brutally. _It hurt and he loved it_.

She pushed him away then, and he thought that was the end of it but she grabbed him, turning them around so his back was against the wall now. He reached for her but she slammed his arms to the wall before kneeling in front of him. _Oh fuck no. No. Was this happening? Was this real_ ?

Her hands released his arms to move down and grasp his cock. He felt them, small and warm, just before she eased her mouth onto him. He struggled in body and mind, but his body was winning this fight. It had to be a dream, this wasn't real as he looked down to see her staring up at him, her grey eyes dark and angry. It sparked a rush of lust and want in him and as she worked him he reached down to fist her hair. He thought he would come right then but he fought it. He knew what he wanted, needed, and it wasn't her mouth, although gods it felt too good to be true.

"Stop, Arya." He was breathless, hoarse. She ignored him and he felt her defiantly sucking even harder. " _Stop it_ , I said!"

His hands moved down to pull her away from his cock but she withdrew her mouth and stood in front of him, her mouth wet. The sight made him lean down to kiss her but she started laughing; a low, sinister howl. _Enough to drive him mad_.

Furious, he lifted her up in his arms and turned once again to shove her up against the wall. Her legs snaked around him instantly and he wasted no time in shoving himself deep inside her without warning. She gave a small gasp and a shriek as he moaned deep. Fuck, she was small and tight and so wet. She was so tight around him and felt so frail that he was almost scared to move inside her. Then he heard her laughing and he lost control, thrusting into her so violently that the sound of her body being slammed into the wall filled the room. She bent her head down, sinking her teeth into his shoulder, seemingly taking a bite out of his skin. He could feel the blood trickling down and yet he couldn't feel her teeth, could barely feel her nails digging into his shoulder blades, taking the skin off. All he felt was her warm cunt.

"Fuck me, Jon, fuck me, fuck me -" He heard her alternating between moans and whimpers and laughing. She had gone insane and he was insane with her. This was the definition of insanity and he didn't care. _He just didn't care_. He stopped, holding her tight at the waist, still inside her and moved her to the bed to fall upon it with her crushed underneath him. She tightened her legs around his waist as he resumed madly thrusting in her. He felt her arms around him, nails raking down his back. He was blinded, sick, dizzy with unbridled lust and sorrow, letting himself go inside of her as she snapped her hips upward to meet his bruising pace. She was small enough underneath him that his cock was angled downward with his thrusting, causing friction on her clit. Her cries were growing louder so he kissed her without gentleness as he held her head in his hands, clutching to her drying strands of hair.

He felt her pulsing around him as she cried out his name into his mouth and it sent him over the edge as he came; whether his whispered her name or roared it he didn't even know. And it didn't matter. He groaned, collapsing on her, and was surprised when she drew him in close, still panting in his ear.

"Arya."

She said nothing. _Nothing_. 

The only sound in the room was the intermingling of their breathing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a turning point for me in many ways. Jonrya wasn't originally meant to happen but this just came out and I've been in love with the pairing ever since. With the original posting of this chapter came some very, very harsh comments - the worst I have ever had ( minus the Robbsa trolls who are the reason I moderate comments now), and there were lot of unhappy readers, but this is still one of my favorite chapters in this story. :)


	33. Grow Into Me

Jon woke out of a deep sleep with a start; his eyes flew open. He was lying on his side, naked under the covers, his head in the crook of his arm. With his other he reached up to push his curls from his face. The room was still dark and the light from his nightstand shined behind him as he looked up, catching a glimpse of a cream-colored bathrobe.

Arya was sitting cross-legged next to him, far enough away as to not touch him but close enough for him to see she was slightly bent over, picking at her fingers. It was so quiet he could hear the _flick flick flick_. It took him a moment to realize she was digging out his skin particles from underneath her nails. As if on cue he felt the sharp stings on his shoulder and down the length of his back.

She turned to him when he moved, settling her hands placidly in her lap. Her eyes studied him and he wondered what she was seeking and finding. She was luminous in the hazy light, her dark grey eyes reflecting some unknown emotion. He could never read people but always thought he knew Arya well. _Obviously not._.

"Arya."

It came out as a whisper. Guilt, shame, self-loathing, horror, sorrow, love, and lust all intermingled in his chest. With the revelation of Robb and Sansa being lovers, and the realization of what happened with Arya, he felt his heart was shattering into a million pieces.

"Yeah." She averted her gaze and returned to her nails.

"How long was I...asleep?" He couldn't judge by his room, which was always dark, and she blocked his view of the clock. _What a stupid, mundane thing to ask after what they did_.

"You passed out for all of twenty minutes."

"You're still here -"

"Yeah, I can go, Jon. No worries." She moved to jump from the bed but he reached his arm out to grab her shoulder and she winced. He recalled how brutally he had pressed her against the wall. Ashamed, he pulled away and rolled onto his back.

"I didn't mean for you to leave, Arya." He swallowed before running his tongue over his sore, kiss-swollen lips. " But Gendry -" _Gendry _. His friend, his co-worker. A good, honest man. Arya's fiancee. His shame increased. _He needed to make this right. Somehow_.__

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"Oh, Gendry isn't missing me much right now, I think. I don't even know if anything with him is worth saving at this point." Her voice was soft.

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"Arya, we need to talk about what happened." 

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She shrugged, still concentrating on her nails which he was sure were picked clean by now.

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"I've been thinking about it. I mean, Sansa and Robb always had some sort of close bond, even before the murders. As I kid I picked up on things but you know, a little girl isn't going to think of small instances as anything but a pure and decent show of affection and a love of a sibling.

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Jon closed his eyes, resisting a sigh. He didn't want to go down the Robb and Sansa road. That could wait. Yet, he didn't want to interrupt her, either.

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"I've been thinking about it. I mean, I always thought they hated me and Bran and Rickon, and hated Mom and Dad. Like, they resented all of us or something. They never wanted to be around us. You know that much anyway. We used to joke we were going to put them in a bubble and roll them away down the street, since they stuck together so much. It makes sense, in a way. After the murders they got even closer, really. Robb was always there, always taking care of her the best he could." She let out a fake laugh. "I guess he was taking care of her in more ways than anyone would ever think."

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"Arya, I meant about _us_." His voice cracked and he wondered if she heard him, since she rambled on.

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"You know, I was going to confront them, yank out Sansa's hair by the handfuls and kick Robb in the balls. In a more calm light, I didn't think that was the way to go, right? They are still family. I know they love each other, even though it's in the most fucked-up way I could ever think of. It's not just the incest, it's the whole dependency issue. If I threw it in their faces, I'm afraid of what it might do to Sansa. I sometimes hate her and get jealous of her, but she is still my sister after all and I do still love her, I guess."

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Jon had never heard her speak so quietly and thoughtfully about her sister before. What she was saying was fairly mature of her. It seemed for once she was attempting to see things from someone else's perspective, like she was searching for empathy and bringing it to the surface. He opened his eyes and sat up, tucking the comforter around his waist. She was still avoiding his question, however, and now she was avoiding his eyes.

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Feelings and thoughts coursed through his mind and body, strange and unbidden. There was a lot to process from the past few hours and he didn't know if he was even able to. Sansa and Robb were _lovers_. He and Arya - well - what happened was surreal, _not_ normal, _not_ him and _not_ her. Yet, it happened, neither one of them stopped it. They both needed it, _wanted_ it. Whatever _it_ was. _Arya_. His little cousin, always more like a sister to him for all these years. Was he any better than Robb? He thought of her at thirteen; so vulnerable, losing her parents and brother. He had been nineteen at the time. He remembered her clinging to him through the funeral, whispering that she wanted to sleep in his bed that night because she was afraid. He let her, and it was natural and comforting and sinless. Innocent. _Oh god_ , he always treated Arya with kid gloves and now he had gone to a place he could never come back from. _But did he want to_ ?

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He stared at her. _Noticing her_. He refused before to see her as anything but that scared yet brave child. Now he looked at her through a lover's eyes and noticed the gentle slope of her cheekbones, the delicate curve of her neck, her small but sensuous lips. _Oh god_ , her bottom lip was slightly swollen and darkened where he had bit her, and there was a light imprint on her cheek where he had slapped her. _He slapped a woman_. She was a _woman_ , not a girl. A lovely, vibrant woman full of life and and love and passion and he used her. _Sansa_. He had fought his growing feelings for Sansa, she had been naked in his arms and he resisted fucking her. _Arya_. He had stripped Arya naked and fucked her up against the wall without hesitation, and was damned to to it two more times after that. Never had he done anything like that, not even with Ygritte. Was it solace, was it to forget? Was it to channel his anger and pain into something more tangible, or was it more than any of that? Was this a new path for him to go down, or was this just a one-time mistake? He was highly aware of her scent on his body. He had gloried in her body and had never known such passion. His skin tingled at the thought.

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"What do you think we should do, Jon?" Her clear voice, strengthening as she talked, cut through his thoughts.

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"I think I agree, say nothing for now. Wait until feelings calm down and we can figure out where to go from there. If we want to confront them, we should do it together with both of them present and we need to be calm and rational."

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"Yeah, agreed. It's settled then."

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He couldn't believe she was going to avoid this. Arya never backed down from anything and tackled issues with as much vigor as she fenced with. He started to say something when she snaked off the bed, the robe parting to show her lean, muscled legs and thighs. His cock twitched in appreciation and he cowered under the sheets. He recalled his hands and mouth on those thighs and could see the bite marks there.

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"Arya - where are you going?"

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She paused by the bed, looking at the clock and not at him.

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"I'm going to - wash up a bit - and go back to my room."

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"Arya."

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She ignored him, turned back towards his bathroom and started to walk, not looking back.

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With horror he observed her slow, limping gait as her shoulders hunched over. The girl - no, woman - who always walked with a spring in her step was sore due to his thoughtless actions. He moved out of bed - aware that his body ached as well - and ran over to her side, gathering her in his arms to hold her against him, his heart beating furiously in his chest.

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"Arya," he whispered into her hair. "I'm so sorry." All the violent passion had left him, leaving only patience and love, something he always had with her.

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He didn't know what to expect, but he didn't anticipate her shoving him away and feebly slapping him across the face. It wasn't hard but it stung him emotionally. It was as if all the life energy had drained out of her; which, after they had fallen limp against each other the third time around, he supposed it had. He started at her dumbly.

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"You're sorry? Fuck you, Jon. I'm sorry I wasn't Sansa. I suppose I was a poor substitute but hey, at least you were a gentlemen enough to call out my name instead of hers."

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"That's not what I meant." He reached for her hands, clasping them tightly to his own."I only meant that I'm sorry I was so rough with you. I didn't mean for you to get hurt -" He felt her hands tense as she tried to pull away.

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"Forget it, Jon. You know what? Let me go. I'll just go back to my room and clean up there."

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"Arya, please don't go. Please don't act like this."

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"Act like what? I'm not talking about this so just leave me the fuck alone."

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"No."

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"Oh, I'm sorry. Do you want another go at some angry-that-I'm-not-Sansa fucking? Round four? Fuck that and fuck you. I'm leaving."

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Forcibly he brought her hands to his lips to kiss her fingers tenderly.

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"No, Arya. Stay. I'm asking you to stay." He wanted her to stay. He'd beg her if he had to.

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He continued feather-light kisses, not daring more. He looked down at her and she finally looked up at him, her darkened eyes filled with tears. Jon leaned down for a soft kiss, mindful of her hurt lip. She hesitated for a moment, then parted her lips under his. He felt her trembling.

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Jon scooped her up easily into his arms and carried her back to his bed, lying her down gently, reverently, joining her and gathering her into his arms. He looked down and saw her uncertainty and want searing into him through her eyes. Tentatively she reached up to run her shaking hands through his long curls.

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"Arya, the whole time, I thought of no one else but you. I want you to know that." He madly scrambled in his head to come up with the right thing to say. "You already know I love you, and I already know you love me. Maybe it is as simple as this."

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He leaned down into her to find her mouth reaching up to meet his.

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This time, he would make sure she felt every light touch, every gentle caress.

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He cupped her face to his and she closed her eyes, sighing his name.

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	34. Christmas Brunch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Song quote is from Jeff Buckley's "You And I".

_You have to now, you have to... I can't...Coward.. This is the only way...We will never be free...do this...no...please.. do it.. I can't... I need_...

Sansa's eye fluttered open. Fragments of a dream or nightmare blossomed in her head and then withered. She immediately rolled over onto her back, muddled and panicked from dreaming, and reached out for Robb. The sunlight streamed through the french doors of her balcony, reflecting the empty side of the bed. She felt disappointment and loss. He must have sneaked back to his room before everyone woke up. She had hoped he would just stay. It was doubtful anyone would be barging in unannounced and really, what if they did? What did it really matter to anyone anyway?

She rolled out of bed, reaching for her pile of clothes on the bed to dress. Thankfully she was smart enough to pack a small overnight bag for them in case the weather was bad, which of course it was. Winters were always worse up here, even though they were only two hours south.

Her legs trembled as she tugged on her panties and jeans and she smiled sensuously as she twisted her hair into a knot in the back. She loved feeling reminders of Robb making love to her. He had been so furious, passionate, so insistent on pleasing her; and although he always pleasured her in every way imaginable, it seemed jealousy made him even more determined. She had to admit it was sexy, a complete turn-on, even if it was at Robb's expense. She giggled and blushed a little with the memory of last night, even as she ached from a pleasant internal soreness. 

Practically skipping out of her room, she passed Arya's door, which was half-opened exposing an empty room, then the boy's rooms, until she arrived at Robb's. She tried the doorknob; the door wasn't locked. She stepped in, and heard the toilet flush and sink running. She was sorry he wasn't still in bed. She would have liked to slip between the covers with him for a quick cuddle. Not much has changed since they lived here besides the mattresses. She remembered the last time they were both in here together. It had been their worst fight to date...her thoughts broke off when she heard his low, sensual voice singing. She recognized it immediately; Robb has always been a huge Jeff Buckley fan. She liked Robb's singing voice. It wasn't as good as her own but he could hold a tune quite well. His pace was a bit faster than the original song but it still struck her to the heart and she felt dizzied. She closed her eyes. She knew he sang it while thinking of her... 

" _You were my only home, silver eyes_  
_I want to see you shine_  
_And we will feel the weight_  
_Fall away from us in time_  
_Searching our past for the true_  
_You and I, you and I, you and I_  
_All for you_  
_Where you think you'll fall_  
_I adore you_  
_Where you shut your soul_  
_I will open for you_  
_If we had only known, in a way_  
_We'd never reach this ground_ " -

She wavered, listening, and it felt as if his voice was physically caressing her body. She made her way to the bathroom door with her eyes half-closed. The door wasn't all the way shut so she pushed it open, the steam rolling out around her. He stood in front of the mirror, his damp curls plastered to his head. He was trimming up his beard close to his face but turned off the trimmer when he saw her coming through the door, ceasing his singing.

"Good morning, love," he murmured, immediately reaching for her.

Without hesitation she sank easily into him, lifting her face to him. She was only a few inches shorter than he and she loved not having to stand on tiptoe for a kiss, which he planted on her tenderly.

"You didn't stay," she pouted when their kiss was over, as he moved to clean up his mess before leading her back into the bedroom."I thought maybe you would stay a while longer."

"You know I couldn't, my love. Trust me, I wanted nothing more. I can't wait to be home again and in our own bed."

"Is that all you think of me?" She teased him, squeezing his hand as he led her out the door. "I'm just a little plaything to have in your bed all the time?"

"After waiting over a decade to properly fuck you, I think you would know me better than that," he growled, pulling her to him in a bear hug. "You mean everything to me, Sansa. If I was incapable of making love to you ever again, I would still love and cherish you, and would be satisfied to live out the rest of my days by your side."

She returned his hug, feeling his strength and warmth.

I suppose I need to let you go and walk ahead of you downstairs," she sighed, not wanting to release him. He stepped back from her, flashing his winning smile and chuckling.

"Ah, yes you should, but I do have to say...it's going to be a _lovely_ view from where I'm walking."

Playfully she slapped his arm and blushed. She couldn't help but think of last night. He had gotten an eyeful of her ass then.

"We need to go downstairs and be the perfect siblings for a few hours again. I am hoping we can get on the road today. I don't want to spend another night here."

"Agree on that, love. If I have to stay here again tonight I am having you in bed the whole night, and damn the risk."

"You say that _now_ , Robb...now hush, before someone can hear you."

"Wait -" He grabbed her arm, pulling her close again. "I need to tell you something."

"What is that?" God, he smelled divine. She didn't object when his lips found her ear, his tongue running gently around her earlobe. Instant electricity ran straight down to her center.

"Merry Christmas, Love."

 

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Sansa walked in before Robb into the dining room, where as usual, Jon sat at the head, his laptop lying next to him closed, his cup of coffee receiving light taps from his fingers. He looked hungover, or sleep-deprived. Usually so impeccable, even at breakfast (or brunch), his hair was tousled in his face as his eyes looked up at her, bloodshot and bleary. He looked like he went through the ringer; even his clothes were rumpled.

Arya sat to his left, more than an arm's length away from him. She had her phone in one hand, looking at it as if she'd never seen it before. Sansa observed that she, too, looked disheveled and hungover. She was younger than all of them yet today she looked older. Her other hand rested on her cheek, propped up by her elbow on the table. She had orange juice and a full, untouched plate.

Gendry wasn't with them.

She felt Robb's presence behind her; she turned to look at him with a raised eyebrow. 'They look like hell' was what she was conveying to him. He mutely agreed with his eyes. Here they had come floating in, flush and happy from a passionate night and ready to take on some family time... and Jon and Arya looked like they should just go back to bed.

"Merry Christmas, Jon, Arya," Sansa chirped hesitantly, moving to sit at the table setting while Robb sauntered to stand at the one next to her, pulling her chair out for her. She shot him a warning glance but he shrugged. They faced Arya, with Jon to their right.

"Yeah, you too," Arya mumbled, not looking up from her phone. Typical.

"Yes, Sansa," Jon said politely, not looking at her."Merry Christmas to you. Robb, you, too."

"Thanks, man."

_Silence_.

Sansa was _ravenous_. So was Robb, apparently, from the way he was digging into everything on the table. She noticed he always ate massive amounts of food after a night of sex. She wasn't sure where the hell he put any of it; he was a lean, mean, muscled machine. She shifted in her seat, feeling warmth between her thighs as she watched him attacking his pancakes and wish he would attack her ravenously instead. She tried to turn off her arousal by glancing over at Arya and then Jon, expecting him to be looking at her. He was looking at Arya, who was still staring at her phone.

_Well, this was going swimmingly_.

"Where's Gendry?" She might as well try to strike up some conversation. She looked pointedly at Arya, who didn't meet her gaze but clenched her jaw and reached for her orange juice.

"He already left."

"Without you? Is everything okay? How much snow did we get?" Silence." Are you planning on staying here for awhile? Robb and I are hoping to get on the road. I'd like to sleep in my own bed tonight -"

Arya choked on her drink and started laughing. What was she laughing at?

"Arya, are you okay?" Robb's voice cut through her laughing. 

"Oh, I'm fine, just super, thanks."

There was something wrong. Sansa could feel it. Gendry left without Arya? Why would he do that? Maybe they fought. They never really seriously fought, not that Sansa knew of. She thought there might be another reason when Arya stood up to leave and for an instant, before she turned away, Sansa saw a mark on the side of her face, and noticed her cut lip. She gasped a little, searching for something to say, but Robb did it for her.

"What the _fuck_ , Arya?"

She looked at him with a puzzled look on her face, then something registered as she sucked in her lip and pulled her hair over his face.

"I will fucking _kill_ him!"

"Robb!" Sansa flew a hand up to grab at his bicep. "Robb, please, calm down -" _Oh god, not on Christmas Day. Any other day, please, but not today_.

"Yeah Robb, listen to your _wife_. Just chill. Gendry didn't lay a hand on me, okay?"

Jon stood up, his face suddenly flushed, his huge dark eyes darting from Arya to Robb. Sansa noticed a hard swallow. The look on his face. It looked like...it looked like that night after he went down on her. Guilt. Conflict. She tried to process it but Robb gained her full attention when he tensed in her grasp. She placed her other hand on his leg under the table, discreetly she hoped. It didn't matter because Arya darted out of the room. Her wife comment hung in the air and Sansa tried to brush it off as Arya being Arya, but she shivered.

"Jon, did she tell you anything? Did Gendry _hit_ her?" She tried to stay calm, and when Jon decided to sit back down, she released her hand from Robb's thigh.

"No, Sansa, Gendry did _not_ hit Arya."

"Well, then, what happened to her?"

"You'll have to ask her. But I swear, Robb, it wasn't Gendry."

He refused to look at Robb or her. He just stared into his coffee cup.

_No. Oh god, no_.

It couldn't be. Could it? Did Jon hit her? Why would he? No, that's not right. Jon would _never_ strike a woman, even if that woman was a bratty bitch from hell, which Arya could very well be at times. 

"Fine, Jon, if it wasn't Gendry, then what the fuck happened to her?" She felt Robb relax a bit as he questioned Jon, so she slid her hand down his arm and dropped it into her lap. She was ashamed to admit she was getting more turned on by touching him, even after what just transpired. She was horrible.

Jon's phone went off. He looked relieved and sighed, then did a double take at the text. His expression changed into one of shock.

"It's Davos."

Sansa shrugged. Davos was Jon's right-hand man at the company's headquarters. Probably wishing him a Merry Christmas. She and Robb remained silent. Robb was coming down from his anger explosion and she was just thinking of the need to be home and in Robb's bed.

"It seems not all of us are going to have a Merry Christmas."

Sansa looked at Jon, silently questioning. He answered.

"It appears Ramsay Bolton, along with Joffrey Baratheon, have been fished out of the lake. They are both dead."


	35. Conversations Kill

Theon answered the door of his sprawling, three-level house, looking disheveled, wearing a bathrobe and lounge pants as if he just got out of his bed. Robb glanced at his phone before shoving it in his coat. It was four in the afternoon.

"Hey Stark, long time no see." Theon grinned. Robb shook his extended hand and was drawn into a brisk man-hug. "Uh, c'mon in."

Robb was led down the hall and into the den, a massive man cave that was every dude's fantasy. The whole house screamed swinging bachelor while Robb's house in contrast emoted a quaint, classy, family vibe. Then again, Theon never had to take on the role of a guardian.

Theon flopped on the couch, turning on the huge TV to some sports channel while Robb chose the easy chair. One thing about Theon, he had the most comfortable furniture ever.

"So what brings you by?" Theon focused on the TV.

Automatically Robb picked up on Theon's uneasiness. For all his casual sprawling, his beady eyes stayed staring at the game and he tapped the remote nervously.

"I think you know, Theon."

No, not really. You've not graced me with your presence here for quite some time. Hell, dude, you and I really don't hang out much anymore."

"Yes, I know, and I'm sorry for that. We were the best of friends, weren't we?"

"We still are man." Theon looked at him, a bit of sadness in his eyes. "You know that."

"Then what's with you taking up with the likes of Ramsay or Joffrey?" 

Robb thought he might as well cut to the chase. Ever since Jon's announcement he'd been wondering about his best friend. Even after the bar fight, he knew Theon was still hanging around those two lowlifes. Visiting Theon was mostly to make sure he was alright, and partly to find out if Theon knew anything.

"Well, I'm not hanging out with them anymore, am I ?" 

"Yes, about that. Of course you're not hanging with them. Jon told us about them, you know, being found dead and all." Robb knew Theon knew something. It was all over his face. He continued on. "So, Jon lost an employee. I never liked Ramsay or trusted him, especially around Sansa. Joff wasn't much of a loss; hell, I wanted to kill the fucker myself."

Theon exhaled and hook his head, a bit of a grin on his face.

"I was wondering how long it would take for you to bring up your sister, Robb. About five minutes into a conversation. Is that a record? Probably not." He stood up then, all laziness forgotten as he started pacing. "Jesus Christ, everything circles back to her."

Robb started to speak but Theon stopped him with a raised hand.

"I figured Arya would run to you and blab. I knew you'd show up here eventually."

Robb went cold. Arya? What in the hell did Arya have to do with anything? He wanted to say something but he kept his silence. One thing about Theon; if you let him go once he got started, he'd let everything out.

"Look man, I want you to know, I've always been loyal to my family and yours only. Your family was like my second family. Hell, I spend more time with yours for a long time, and it seemed I hug around your parents more than you did."

Robb already knew this. He felt a twinge of guilt. He never wanted his parents around after he discovered his love for Sansa was more than brotherly. He only saw them as roadblocks to what he wanted, and Theon adored them more than his own father. He looked at his former best friend, waiting, and Theon looked resigned enough to spill the beans with little pressuring. It never took long.

"So, okay, Joff shows up at my door one night. He's all fucked up. I don't mean drunk or high. He shows me...what Arya did. He was spitting nails but he's scared enough of her to not do anything on his own. He is - was - always a chickenshit at heart."

"What Arya did?" Robb asked, confused. "What do you mean?"

"Jesus fucking Christ, Robb. She fucking knifed up his back. You know, like Sansa's wounds. Like, he was a mess with some makeshift stitching. He refused to go to the ER to have it looked at."

"What?" Robb's whole body felt like ice and his mouth went dry. _Arya_. Arya thought Joff was the murderer, and Joff was dead. "What did...what did it say?"

"What did it _say_ ? Dude, it was a bunch of cuts, what the _fuck_ are you talking about?"

Robb shook his head and shrugged, not trusting himself to say anything.

"Anyway, so he calls up Ramsay and both of them with Myranda, decide to crash and spend some time here. Which, like, why the fuck not. They're pretty fun to me if I'm fucked up good enough. But then all Joff and Ram could talk about was revenge on Arya, on you, and on Sansa. Like, dude, they were planning to take out all the Starks. Even Bran who's done nothing to anyone his whole life. I thought it was some kind of fucked-up fantasy game until Ramsay showed me the gun he was planning on using. It had a silencer on it. I mean, I don't know why they thought I'd be down with their scheme. Maybe I took too much shit, maybe I was just too scared to defy them, but I pretended it was OK. They were planning on...well, they wanted to kill Arya after flaying her. The worst part...they uh, wanted to kidnap you and Sansa and... rape you both...and...kill you in front of Sansa. They said they weren't sure if they would keep Sansa alive after they fucked her or not."

Robb felt sick to his stomach and and the anger rolled off of him. It was a good thing they were already dead, because Robb knew he'd kill them if they weren't. He said nothing. He couldn't interrupt, even if he wanted to.

"So for a couple of days I waited for them to chill out about it but they didn't. Then Arya shows up out of fucking nowhere. She wanted to ask me some questions about Ramsay. I kind of figured it had to do with Joff and I tried to tell her to go away and shut the door in her face, but you know Arya. She's a petite thing but she's so goddamn strong. So, she barges in, demanding and pissed off, and I tried to rationalize with her and tell her whatever she wants to know so she can just leave before Ram came down the stairs -"

Theon's pacing quickened, his hands wringing together.

So anyway, after some fast talking and arguing, I promised to help her look more into Ram's life or whatever she wanted. I managed to get her out the door and on her way. But then Joff and Ram came downstairs. They were furious at me for letting Arya go, they saw it as an opportunity and they were on their way to go after her. I - I tried to stop them, started fighting. Ram's a tough fucker, though and two against one isn't much of a fight, even if Joff is, er- or was - a pussy. All I had to do was hit him on the back -"

Theon could always hold his own in a fight, Robb knew that, but Ramsay Bolton was fierce. He saw him in action at the bar when he socked Joff pretty good; Uncle Bryden did a number on him but Ramsay had been three sheets to the wind and got in a few good swings anyway. Still, Robb felt like vomiting. The bile was in his throat; he couldn't get past what they wanted to do to Sansa.

"So, Ram's on top of me, he starts beating the shit out of me. I knew, I just knew they were going to get Arya, then I heard a strange noise and Ram fell on top of me. When I reached up to shove him off I heard something else, and Joff fell -"

He sat back down, his head in his hands, looking up at Robb.

"It was Myranda with Ramsay's gun."

_Myranda_. Robb's brain searched and found. Ramsay's girlfriend, also employed by Jon? She hadn't missed any work. Myranda...dyed red hair. Almost Sansa's shade. Not a bad looking girl, but odd...really strange..he didn't see her much at Winterfell but when he did she stared at him. Dyed red hair. _Red like Sansa_.

"Theon -"

"Look, man, that's the best I can recall. I didn't kill them but I wish I had. Most everything is a fucking blur. Then I had a bigger problem about what the fuck to do with them. Of course I thought of Robert Baratheon coming after me and hanging me, and of the Lannisters hunting me down. I'd be a dead man even before the cops showed up. So, the only thing I could do was rid myself of the bodies and hope they'd never be discovered."

"How -" The word was thick on Robb's tongue. He couldn't believe this. It was like something out of a bad movie or novel, not real life. This never happened in real life... _but neither did what happened with Sansa_...

"Well, Myranda doesn't have the strength to help me carry two bodies," Theon sighed, stating the obvious. "I had to think of someone I could trust, someone not adverse to shady dealings, someone who didn't give two shits about either one of those fuckers. I was going to call you, but, well, I can't get your hands dirty. You got...too much too lose. I couldn't do that -"

"Theon, you don't have to tell me anymore." It was almost a plea. Robb didn't want to know, not really.

"I do! I do!" Theon's voice pitched high. "I need to just get this off my chest. I ended up calling your Uncle Brynden. I know he's older than fucking dirt, but he had no love for either of them and he's the man who can get shit done, everyone knows he's got that gang and all. So, he helped, asked no questions really. Bagged shit up like ir was fucking bagging raked leaves, like taking out the goddamn trash. He had two cronies with him. I swear it looked like Gangster Bikers, Inc."

_Uncle Brynden_.

He wasn't really surprised. He thought he'd be more in shock or something. After all, it wasn't every day that your best friend and favorite uncle were complicit in a double murder.

"Why wouldn't you just turn Myranda in? I mean, she killed them. You wouldn't have had a part in it if you just called the police. You just had to get my uncle involved?" He couldn't keep the accusatory tone out of his voice.

"I didn't want Myranda to suffer. She's suffered enough because of Ramsay. Everyone thinks she's such a brutal bitch, but she was scared to leave Ram and did whatever he demanded of her." He shifted uneasily. "Besides, I - I really think I'm in love with her."

"What?"

"Yeah, it's crazy. I know. She's crazy. Maybe I'm crazy too. Besides -" Theon cleared his throat and looked down. Robb stared at him. "She knows about..uh, the incest, Robb. They all did."

Robb felt cold. No, this was not happening. How. How did anyone know? He and Sansa had taken such pains to hide everything, haven't they? How could they know? Theon knew, from their college years, but that's because he opened up to him on one drunken night. A night they never spoke of again. He had hoped Theon would have just rationalized it as some weird, imaginary drunken rant. When Theon never brought it up, he figured that was the end of it. For Theon to state it so plainly now, it was like someone punched him in the stomach. And after all Theon had just told him, that is what he clung to.

"How did they find out?"

"Man, this isn't something I want to chit-chat about -"

" _How_ ?" Robb's thunderous bark made Theon jump a bit and he nervously started drumming his leg.

"I'm not sure. Uh. Joff said something about catching you and Sansa at a family picnic when they were dating. You guys had the Baratheons over. I guess Joff had to take a piss, went into the house to use the bathroom and saw you..uh..finger fucking her and..getting her off, I guess -"

"Fuck," Robb whispered. He knew exactly which gathering it was. He could still remember it as vividly as if he had his fingers inside of her at this very moment. They thought they were being so sneaky, running up to his room...he promised to get her off as quickly as he could...

"Yeah, anyway. He kept dating her after that just to be a douche. He said he never told Sansa what he knew...but he told Ramsay and Myranda for sure. And, uh -"

"What?" There was more? What more could there be?

"Robb...Joff told Arya. He told Arya when she was torturing him".

No. _No_. The ice ran through his body. He stared at Theon and knew by the sad, scared expression on his face that he was telling the truth. Arya, his little sister, knew. She _knew_. At Christmas dinner... _she knew_. Now it made sense, how she was studying them so closely...and her _wife_ comment. She _knew_. Two dead people were nothing to him. All that mattered was Arya knew. Oh gods, their house of cards was falling. How many people had Joff told? Who else knew? _Sansa_. This would devastate her...then another thought crossed his mind.

"Did Joff confess to the murders of my parents?"

Theon's brows furrowed for a moment.

"No, not that I know of."

Robb had too much to digest all at once, but he focused on Sansa. He came here for her, to have questions answered, and he got far more than what he bargained for. Arya. What did he do now? What would Sansa want him to do? How far had the incest knowledge gone? All that mattered in his life was Sansa. He would protect her at all costs. She seemed to be doing so well now, she wasn't as delicate or scared, but would that change if she knew about Joff and about Arya? He couldn't risk it.

"Look man, I know it's a lot. I've already been questioned by the police but nothing came of it. Myranda was my alibi. I've got no motive, outwardly. If it wasn't for some dumb ass nosy fisher who likes to have his sport in winter weather, they'd still be at the bottom of that lake." He tone became gentler, softer, and more thoughtful than Robb had ever heard it. "All I know is, your secret is safe with me. I'd never expose you and Sansa. I know you love her and although I can't understand the sex thing, I understand the love. For what it's worth, I doubt Arya would believe a bastard like Joff. She knows he's a little prick."

It was a small reassurance for Robb, who just wanted to weep or scream. All he could do was nod.

They both heard light footsteps and turned towards the doorway. Myranda appeared, looking small and childlike in one of Theon's hockey jerseys, her brown hair peeking through at the roots of her flame red hair.

"Oh, darling, I didn't realize you had company... hmm...Mr. Stark, will you be staying for dinner?" She smiled seductively at Robb before looking over at Theon, winking.

No, actually, I need to get going." Thankful for the out, Robb rose and shook Theon's hand, avoiding looking at Myranda. "Thanks for the talk, Theon, I appreciate it."

"Anytime, brother. Don't be a stranger. We need to get together sometime."

"Sure, just text me. Maybe we can catch a game or something." Robb avoided Theon's eyes, hastily making his way to the door.

"Yeah, no prob. See ya, Robb."

Robb couldn't leave fast enough. His mind was already working on a plan. He wanted desperately to go home to Sansa, but there was now an unexpected visit he needed to make. He knew what needed to be done, and as quickly as possible.

He'd never see Theon again.


	36. Never Enough

Sansa sighed, bored, lounging on Robb's bed in her warmest but cute sensible flannel nightgown, not bothering with the TV or even music. Robb had been gone entirely too long, and she didn't like him out in this weather. It was more sleet than snow, and the later it got the worse she worried. She was sure it sounded like ice pelting against the windows and she had already sent Robb a million texts asking if he was safe, which of course he kept reassuring her that he was fine. After visiting Theon, he had driven over to see Uncle Brynden, which only meant to her that he would be out even longer. She knew Uncle B wouldn't be satisfied with a brief chat session, especially on his own turf. The possessive streak in her reared its ugly head when she thought of his prolonged stay away from her and she was thankful there was no one around to see it. 

It never dawned on her that is was unhealthy to want to be with him so much; she had always been this way, even before their feelings took an unexpected turn, and to her needing Robb was as natural as needing air to breathe. He was a part of her, her other half, and when he was away from her for any length of time she felt it to her core.

Christmas night had been wonderful, probably one of the best yet. Robb made sure they arrived home in one piece and immediately started up the fireplace in the living room. The shock of Joffrey dead had left her long before she reached home. She dated him in high school but had no feelings for him; he had been cruel and rude and she couldn't bring herself to care about him or Ramsay either, who always creeped her out. Robb had been worried about her though, but once he discovered how unaffected she was, he finally gave her her presents. The first one was the announcement of Jory's retirement. Robb had given him a generous pension and a house of his own; he would be well taken care of for the remainder of his days. Sansa wondered how much of it was to buy his silence, but Jory had always been faithful to the Stark family. Another gift was two tickets to see the Romeo and Juliet play at the theater...but the last gift was everything. She cried when Robb presented her with a gorgeous, dainty ring, silver and gold entwined with their birthstones. The meaning was unmistakable and although she shouldn't wear it on her ring finger, that's exactly where it went. They made love so tenderly that night she thought she would die happy from the sweetness. He was hers completely and for all intent and purposes, he was her mate. Her soulmate. Fate had been cruel in making him her brother by blood, but she had long since reconciled what little conflict she had with that.

Checking her phone again, she scooted off her bed, deciding to occupy herself by investigating Robb's closet. For such a neat freak his gigantic walk-in closet was always in such a disarray and he always had the double door entrance to it closed. Well, really, it was their closet now, why shouldn't she want to organize it? She obviously had plenty of time to get started before Robb came home. She sardonically observed that she was turning into quite the little Holly Homemaker.

She hummed a little tune to herself as she started sifting through his things. He was worse than a woman, so many shoes and clothes everywhere. She noticed with smug satisfaction that he at least kept all of his suits pressed and hung with care, and they all were of her Light Of Seven brand name.

_Robb_. She could always twist him around her little finger. Whatever she wanted, it was hers. Well, the one thing he ever denied her he gave in to her eventually, didn't he? She was so very, very glad he did. It seemed every time he made love to her she felt more alive, more close to who she used to be. She was finding her voice, her determination and strong will that seemed to be snuffed out with her parents' deaths. And Rickon's. Oddly, she never grouped him in with Ned and Cat; his death had been determined accidental and she could reconcile that easier, even close herself off from it. Was it a survival tactic, or was she just that emotionally detached? She was never close to her parents or Rickon, really, not in several years leading up to their deaths. Robb seemed to take it harder than she had. She didn't spend much time dwelling on it anymore. She preferred to to concentrate on the here and now, on the living. _On Robb_.

Her smile while thinking of him faded as she reached the far end of the closet. There was a chest, the size of a hope chest, in the back, buried under a stack of jackets. She'd never bothered to be in his closet this far back before and she was curious as to what was in it. Papers? More clothes? Kinky sex toys? She giggled at that. Well, if he had anything kinky he hadn't shared with her...not yet, anyway.

Moving all the stuff to the side, she dragged the chest forward to open it. There was a lock enclosure but it wasn't locked. It didn't matter if it was; she knew where all the keys were stashed; in the safe in the library. Her hands hesitated at first. Maybe it was dishonest to peek? Well, maybe it was a bit dishonest but that never stopped her before. She creaked open the top and drew in a breath, stunned.

Lying on top were the masks from the masquerade party, and underneath was her costume dress. She lifted it out gently as if it were made of glass and held it to her nose. It still smelled of her, and it was still stained. It was obviously never dry cleaned and Robb must have paid the costume shop to keep it. Memories of that night flooded over her, none of which she regretted. Well, maybe stupidly kissing Jon was one thing? No, she couldn't regret that. It gave her Robb.

_Robb_.

She touched his mask, smoothing her fingers over the material, remembering how angry and desperate and lust-ridden his eyes were looking down at her. _He has truly been a wolf in his wolf-mask_. Recalling how he took her, she shivered in pure pleasure, feeling the twinge between her legs. It made her think of Christmas Eve, when he fucked her on the floor like an animal in heat; _like a wolf with his chosen mate_.

She hoped Robb would be home soon.

Setting aside the gown and masks, she kept going. She hadn't realized just how sentimental he really was. Memories washed over her with everything she pulled out. The first poem book she had him read to her: Sonnets From The Portuguese, bookmarked at XXIII. Ticket stubs from the first play her took her to. The first outfit she had sewn for him all by herself. Love letters she had written to him in high school under her pseudonym Alayne. Her little doll wearing the first little dress she had even sewn. Her pale pink cardigan sweater, torn in the back but still in one piece. Locks of her red hair pressed in a bag. A mixed CD from nine years ago; she knew all the songs that were on that, even now. At the very bottom were papers, documents, news articles of her and her clothing line.

She sifted through all the items carefully, remembering every single event with each discovery. Some things, she didn't want to remember. The thoughts started swirling.

_Go away_.

_Push them down, concentrate on Robb. Concentrate on the good_.

She carefully placed everything back as she had found it, her fingers tracing the outline of his mask. So many events, so many feelings, all overwhelming her. Right or wrong, good or evil, everything had its place and it all circled back to her and Robb. Whatever happened or will happen, their love was strong and would prevail; they were destined to be together...

_Until the graves make ghosts of both of them_.

She shut the chest, pushing it back in place. She didn't feel like organizing his closet so much anymore. She was remembering too much and Robb wasn't there t help her. It had been awhile since her inner demons were on her shoulders, which she attributed to the fact that she and Robb now shared a bed. She slept best in his arms and he kept her nightmares at bay.

As if on cue, she heard the front door open and close. Thankfully, desperately, she rushed downstairs and almost flung herself into his arms, but stopped short at his expression. She knew him like the back of her hand and his eyes sparkled with more than happiness at seeing her. There was determination there...and hesitation?

"What is it?" She could push her own emotions down for a moment. "Robb?"

"Sansa," he breathed, taking his boots and jacket off at the door. "I'm sorry I am so late. Uncle Brynden and I had...quite a bit to talk about."

Suddenly she felt dizzy and sick to her stomach. She struggled not to show it. His voice sounded so serious.

"What about, my love?"

He smiled - oh god, that smile - and took her hands in his. She was trembling and couldn't will herself to stop. He peered at her and frowned, worry painting his handsome face.

"Love, you look pale. Are you sick? What's wrong?"

"I - I don't know." Her voice was so weak. Scared. "Robb -"

She fell against him and he scooped her up in an instant. She was comforted by his embrace as he carried her back upstairs to his room, where he laid her gently on the bed.

"Sansa?"

"I'm - I'm just tired," she lied. She didn't want to worry him

"No, you're not. You're sick and something is bothering you. You seem to forget I've been around you all your life and I can tell when something is going on." He crawled into bed with her, gathering her in his arms so she could nestle her head into his chest. His heartbeat was reassuring.

"Please, Robb, tell me, how were your visits?" She meant: _Please Robb, make me forget_.

"Let me just say my visits brought some things to mind, and I hope you won't be too upset with me for making some decisions without you."

Her head popped up at that, her sickness and worry momentarily forgotten.

"Decisions? After seeing Theon and Uncle B?"

He smiled, kissing the top of her head softly, his hand caressing her hair.

"I am resigning from N. Stark Industrial. Completely. I am relinquishing all claims I have on it, selling my stock, getting out for good. It is still in the Stark family so I don't have any concerns over it."

"For _good_ ?" She was shocked. "Turning your back on the company that you helped strengthen? The company you inherited from father? After all that's happened? Why?"

She felt him tense.

"It doesn't really matter, my love. It's what I want. I am sure Jon will handle the company just fine, and with Davos and Stannis as his right-hand men, he won't drive it into the ground."

"Gendry?"

He sighed.

"Gendry has already resigned. Since he and Arya ended their relationship, he said he was no longer comfortable working for the family. Not sure what this means for your casual line, but I am thinking you might need a new model. I am sure he will be in touch with you."

Sansa sighed. She hadn't spoken to Arya since Christmas brunch. Or Jon, either, for that matter. All she knew was that Arya moved back into her old room at Winterfell after the breakup with Gendry. She wasn't informed on why that happened, and honestly she didn't care. Knowing Arya, she did something to screw it up. She could never imagine Gendry leaving Arya without a really damn good reason. She was a bit surprised that Jon let her move in, but she guessed it made sense. Jon had an affection and love for Arya ever since they were kids, something Sansa never had and never would have with him. Inwardly she cringed at Robb mentioning Jon. Would she forever feel the sting of regret with how she used him when she was drunk and missing Robb? Even now she hadn't apologized to Jon for what happened, and she knew she should.

"If that's what you want, I cannot stop you," she murmured. She was actually relieved. Now he was going to be free to do whatever he wanted, free to spend more time with her. But what prompted him to do it? She wanted to ask but she was still feeling ill and now feeling drowsy and warm, lying up against him.

"Sansa, trust me, I am doing this for us. It's for the best."

"Hmm."

"Are you falling asleep on me, love? I can't say I mind it."

Her mind was still swimming but the comforting lull of him numbed her to panic. She reached up to unbutton his shirt and snaked a hand though it, finding his chest hair.

"Have I told you even your chest hair is handsome? Not too much, not too sparse, just right. Just enough to play with if I want. Don't ever manscape it. I love it."

"I think that's a compliment not a lot of guys hear," he chuckled.

"No, I think not." She tugged feebly at his shirt.

"Okay, I get it, you want my shirt off."

"You're in bed. You don't need a shirt and jeans."

"True." He gingerly moved her off of him so he could take off his clothing, then moved both of them under the sheets and comforter. It was chilly in his room, the way they both liked it. She twisted around him possessively like a vine, the warmth of him energizing her body.

"Robb."

"Yes, love?"

"Make love to me."

"Sansa, you don't feel well. You need to rest."

"No." She moved a hand over his boxers. As usual, the lightest touch form her sprang him to life. She loved that power she had over him.

"Love, I don't want you to feel worse."

"I'm not talking marathon, hot-and-heavy fucking, Robb." She was touched at how concerned he was, even with a semi hard-on. "But I need you. I need you inside me. Please. When you're inside me I feel alive, I feel like we're the only two people in this world, and whatever we have done, whatever we are doing, it is nothing compared to how you feel moving in me."

She knew her pleading and choice of words and deliberate caresses would break his resolve. She loved him all the more for it; he always placed her needs and wants above his own.

Ah, the light, slow skimming of his fingers on her skin underneath her nightgown, before he removed it and tossed it aside, took her breath away and she melted hazily into his arms, surrendering to velvet kisses. Her hands threaded through his hair as he rid himself of his boxers, and then she relished the pure bliss of his mouth on hers, his hands cupping her breasts before circling her hardened nipples. His hands warmed her skin, reverently traveling to the apex between her legs. She felt his fingertips, silky smooth, moving against her folds in a languid pace, and she nearly cried from the pleasure of it. He was everywhere; lips on her neck, breath on her flesh. She knew nothing of sin, nothing of wrong, only that this was her heaven.

"Robb," she breathed, barely above a whisper. "Robb, please, please, please." She raised her hips up to him, encouraging him, needing him.

He entered her slowly, oh so slowly, and she whimpered as he gathered her in his arms, kissing her deep and moaning into her mouth. He filled her and she wrapped her legs around him, her heels pressing into his ass to push him deeper still. It almost hurt, but it was a pleasurable ache, something sweet and she knew she would be able to feel him long after he left his seed. He moved, his thrusts careful, long, easy, and loving. His fingers stroked her clit and she pressed up into him, feeling his chest against hers. She couldn't get close enough, _it was never close enough_...

"Sansa, _I love you_."

Simple words from his husky voice. It spurred her love and and lust and longing, and tears formed in her eyes unexpectedly. Until he died he would give her all of himself, risking public humiliation, the threat of imprisonment, a life with no children, no legal wife. _He was giving her his life_.

" _I love you, too_ ," she rasped, feeling a gentle peaking. She didn't know how long their bodies moved tenderly together, only that it seemed like an eternity and yet not long enough. Never enough Hours would never be enough. Days would never be enough. Or years...

She felt her climax and kissed him forcibly, letting her soft cries vibrating on his lips and tongue. She wished it could be longer, this feel of flying, this feeling of pulsing around his flesh. He followed her with his own release. She knew he could never resist the excitement of the orgasms he gave her.

"Sansa. My Sansa." He kissed her gently, still inside her. She wished he could stay there, hot and hard and complete.

She nuzzled into him, sickness forgotten, her demons killed for another day.


	37. Blackmail

The buzzer indicating someone at the gate startled Robb; he wasn't expecting company. Sansa had left earlier to shop in town and hadn't wanted him to tag along. Robb knew she didn't like going anywhere alone but she insisted on it, and he could only surmise that she was intending to buy something for him and wanted to surprise him with it.  
He walked briskly to the study to check the monitor. Leaning over, he frowned, his mouth turned down at the corners, but he pressed the key on the pad to open the gate and sighed. This was not going to be a social call.

It seemed like an eternity passed as he made his way to the front door to greet his guest.

"Myranda?"

She had careened around the drive in Theon's sports car and slithered out of it like a sensuous snake, not dressed very sensibly for the cold weather in a short leather jacket and a skimpy skirt showing her long spindly legs. Robb thought she looked like a cross between a biker chick and a prostitute as her hips sashayed up the steps. He noticed her hair had been freshly dyed red again.

"Robb." Her voice was high-pitched, grating. Then again, he was used to Sansa's low yet feminine melody. Nothing could compare with that.

"Theon isn't with you?" What he meant to ask was what the fuck was she doing showing up at his house. He was thankful Sansa wasn't at home.

"No, no. I thought it best Theon stayed home. I need to...speak with you for a minute. Is Sansa home?"

He shook his head and held the door for her to walk in and quietly closed it. An uneasy feeling crept up on him. What did it matter where Sansa was, and why would she even ask. To his knowledge, the two women never exchanged so much as one conversation, only a polite 'hello' if they met on Winterfell's grounds, which was rare. In the back of his mind he recalled Theon telling him that he knew about his true relationship with Sansa and the tension settled into the back of his neck as he led her into the study, closing the double doors and indicating her to sit in the nearest chair. She sank into it with little grace, shrugging off her jacket and tossing it over the arm of the chair, along with her keys. She was slim and her breasts were slight. Robb tried to ignore the fact that she wore no bra underneath her cream colored blouse, although it was hard to when her small nipples were erect from the cold.

"So what brings you by? We hardly know each other, Myranda."

"Ah, yes, I know," she purred, her eyes boring into him so intently he had to look away. "I think that is unfortunate."

"Is this about Theon? Is he all right?"

"Yes, Theon is fine, for now. He is still in shock over what happened. You know everything, don't you?"

Robb nodded slowly, wondering what she was getting at. He didn't care for the coyness, but then again he was used to Sansa and Arya's forthrightness. Then he suddenly had an idea of why she was sitting in front of him.

"Yes, I know everything, and I assure you, I have no intention of contacting the police. Personally I am glad Joffrey is dead, although I do sympathize with Robert and Cersei. It was a hard conversation to have, a hard memorial service to attend, but I did it out of respect the Starks always had for the Baratheons. As for Ramsay, I didn't know him well enough to care, but after what I was told, I do feel a sense of relief, as well as regret that you beat me to it."

"Well, Ramsay was quite generous to me in some ways." Her lips curled appreciatively. "However, I knew I could never leave him. I am sure he would have killed me if I was to defy him. So much easier and...beneficial to give him whatever he wanted."

He got her meaning as she shifted her ass in the chair, her crossed legs wiggling slightly. Robb clenched his jaw and looked over at the wall clock. Christ, he wanted Sansa to come home, but paradoxically he wanted her to stay away until he could shoo Myranda out of the house.

"I hate to be short with you, but is this the reason you're here? To try to explain why you killed two people?"

"Oh, Mr. Stark, you have no idea."

"Just Robb, please."

"Robb."

She smiled like the Cheshire cat as Robb sat on the edge of the couch opposite her. He perched on it, straight-backed, knees together, like a child practicing proper etiquette at the dinner table.

"Well, Robb, I wasn't going along with Ramsay's plan. I assure you I would have prevented it in one way or another. Your sister showing up just provided me a perfect opening to rid ourselves of a very huge problem. I don't feel much for him. Perhaps murderers can rationalize they kill for the greater good instead for their own selfish reasons or desires, yes? Ramsay was more evil than I could ever dream to be, but the plans he made will never materialize."

Robb said nothing so she continued.

"Arya was asking Theon all kinds of questions about Ramsay. I think she was on to something. So you could say I saved your sweet little sister's life as well. I mean, she isn't as precious to you as your other one, but I am sure you love her as well. Unless you love her a much as Sansa? I don't know how incest works, really. I have no siblings to try with. Do you want to fuck both your sisters?" Her voice was level and Robb clenched his jaw, his blood boiling.

"I think it's time for you to see yourself out, Myranda."

She laughed, a faux little peal, twirling a strand of her long hair.

"Oh _Robb_ , you shouldn't be like that. You should be very appreciative of me and my ability to keep all kinds of secrets. Things could become very complicated for you very quickly if things came to light. I wonder how someone as handsome as you would do in jail?"

"Far better than you." The retort came out without thinking.

"Oh, I doubt that. I'm not adverse to fucking women, and after Ramsay I think I can handle any type of fucking anyone would give me. I'd be a popular little pussy in prison. You, on the other hand -"

"This conversation is _over_." He stood up. "If you don't see yourself out I will forcibly remove you."

She stood up and he expected her to throw her jacket on, but instead she moved closer, causing him to step back until the back of his legs hit the couch. He felt his skin crawl as she reached up to run her fingers along his collar, and he grabbed her wrists. They felt fragile under his grasp. She purred.

"You forget, Robb, I hold the cards. I know everything. And I mean... everything. Ramsay let me in on a few things, some things he...picked up while employed with the Starks. I am willing to forget them all if you help me forget."

There was a sudden sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He was going to be blackmailed and there was nothing he could do about it. _Sansa_. Only Sansa mattered. He would do whatever was needed to keep their relationship a secret, keep anything a secret and keep her secure and safe. He wondered what proof she had of anything.Would it just be her word against his? He was respected and renowned through the business and beyond. But who else knew? How far had Joffrey taken it? Ramsay?

"Name your price then," he settled on saying. "I can have the money transferred to you as soon as tomorrow."

Oh, darling." She smiled lewdly. "I don't want your _money_. Theon gives me whatever I want, whatever I ask for. I have no plans on giving that up, or giving him up for that matter. He's the only man who has ever been good to me. No, there is something _else_ I want from you."

He froze, letting go of her wrists as if they were on fire. She took the opportunity to slide her hands down his chest to his belt. He couldn't feel more repulsed.

"You see, Ramsay was always into games. He loved devising all sorts of little role plays for me. One of his recent favorites was me dying my hair red and pretending I was Sansa Stark. He liked me to be his little prisoner and subject me to all kinds of interesting things, and all the while he wanted me to say how much I wanted to fuck my brother, how all I wanted was my brother's cock in my mouth and up my ass. Every time I said it, he'd fuck me all the harder. It turned me on, too, the harder he fucked me the more I wanted it. The more I wanted the _real_ Robb Stark."

_No. No. Anything but this_. She could ask for every red cent he had and he would give it to her, as long as she didn't demand of him what she was going to. Perspiration formed on his brow.

"So, Robb Stark, I want you to _fuck me_. Lucky for me your sister lover isn't home." She pressed herself against him, her breathing increasing, her hands deftly unbuckling her belt and removing it. "Hmmm. If you want you can use this one me. Or I can use it on _you_."

She dropped it to the floor and reached down to grab his hand.

"You don't have an option to say no, do you? I could think of a much worse arrangement than fucking. I've never known a man to say no to a little kinky fuck."

Options. Options. Did he have any options. His mind reeled from the idea of fucking her. There was no way in seven hells he would fuck this woman. He _couldn't_. But he couldn't let his world with Sansa fall apart. He tried again.

"Myranda, I am flattered that you are interested in me but...I must decline. However, I am willing to meet any dollar amount to buy your silence."

"I don't want your fucking _money_. I want your _cock_ ," she growled. 

"Theon -"

"Theon watched me fuck Ramsay and Joffrey, even joined in once. I doubt he will quibble much over me fucking you."

"Being a wealthy woman is longer lasting than a ten-minute fuck." He was desperate, starting to see this was a losing game.

"I don't need money. And I doubt you are a ten-minute fuck."

Robb closed his eyes, willing this to just go away.

"Oh, see, if that helps, go ahead and close your eyes and think of your sister. Tell me, has she ever let you fuck her up the ass? I bet not. I bet you never even tried. You Starks are so uppercrust and repressed. I know your type." She pushed him down then and his eyes opened, widened, and he fell back into the couch where she straddled him, frowning.

"I'd figure you'd have a hard-on by now, Robb. You disappoint me. Can you only get it up for your sister? Here, maybe _this_ will help."

He couldn't believe it when she hiked her skirt up to her waist, revealing that she was bare. His eyes naturally glanced down and she smirked while undoing her blouse. Unfortunately the blood rushing to his cock betrayed him. _Oh fuck. No_. If he did this, he couldn't live with himself. If he didn't do this, he would lose Sansa for good. Everything he had ever done to be with her would be pointless. He couldn't risk it. Of course there was a chance she had no evidence, and no one would believe her, but could he take that chance? Theon knew, and if she had her claws in him, what then?

Suddenly a thought ran through his head like lightning. It was risky, it was drastic, but if he could do it, if Sansa would agree to it, there might be a way to avoid all of this for good. However, he had to deal with the problem at hand. He had to manage her without making her angry, had to buy time.

"Hmm, there we are," she squeaked, grinding down on his semi-erect cock."Are you pretending it's _Sansa_ on your lap? It doesn't matter to me, really. You can even call out her name when you cum."

He let her work the button and zipper on his jeans but almost lost it when she moved to kiss him. He couldn't help but recoil at her lips, her tongue. He wasn't that good of an actor and his resolve buckled under the forced kiss and panic set in. He went to push her off as she reached down to pull out his cock. Oh shit. This was not happening.

The dual doors to the study opened.

_Sansa_.

His eyes flew to her and she was there; immobile, pale, and staring. Immediately he shoved Myranda off and stood up, instinctively stuffing his cock back into his jeans and zipping up, even as he felt numb and horror through his whole body. _Jesus Christ. No_.

"Sansa -" her name on his tongue was broken, faltering.

She dropped the bags she was carrying, backing away, saying nothing. She was in shock, he could tell. His heart tore and bled.

"Sansa, it's not what you think -" _Fuck.The lame excuse every man caught starts with_.

She turned and bolted.

_Fuck_.

He wanted to run after her, cry, beg forgiveness, but he concentrated on anger instead as he reached Myranda in seconds, who was straightening her skirt and buttoning her blouse. She didn't look contrite in the slightest as he reached her, grabbing her by the throat.

"If I were you, I would get the fuck out _now_ ," he growled. "I can't guarantee what might happen to you if you don't, but I assure you it won't bring you _any_ pleasure."

He couldn't believe the lust in her eyes as both of her hands grabbed his, pressing them harder into her throat. _Jesus fucking Christ, she was a crazy bitch_.

He dragged her over to the chair, grabbing her jacket and keys, not letting go of her neck as he roughly led her out into the hallway and to the door. He let go of her to open the door, shove her out, and throw her keys at her.

"Get _out_."

Her laughter filled the air.

"Sorry for our interruption, Robb. I will be in touch soon. _Real_ soon."

He slammed the door in her face, locking it, pressing his hands against it, trying to pull himself together as he heard Theon's car speed away. Sansa. She was already upstairs in her room - not his - and he feared a repeat of what happened after the dinner with Arya and Gendry, but he knew it wasn't an issue when he heard objects being flung.

_Fuck_.

He pivoted from the door and ran upstairs to her room. Thankfully the door wasn't locked, but when he entered he was greeted by a figurine sailing past his head and crashing against the wall only inches from him. She was throwing anything she could find.

"Sansa, stop -"

"Fuck _you_ , Robb, leave me alone and go fuck that little _whore_ !"

"Sansa, please let me explain -"

"Explain? There is no way to explain _that_ !"

Another piece sailed his way and caught his shoulder. It hurt, but not as much as it did when she yanked the ring off he gave her for Christmas and threw it at him, symbolically hitting him in the chest and falling to the wood floor with a soft _tink_. He leaned down to pick it up and stuff it in his pocket.

"Fuck, Sansa! Stop throwing shit and listen to me!"

Amazingly she stopped, her hair settling around her in a tangled mess; she was panting and pale.

"I - I think I'm going to be sick." She ran off to her bathroom and he heard her throwing up. _Oh god, he made her sick_.

He ran into the bathroom to see her hunched over, crying and gagging. He reached down to hold her hair back as she retched again, shaking.

"Sansa."

She flushed the toilet, standing up and pushing him away with as much force as she could muster while reaching for her toothbrush, still crying. Robb felt like the biggest asshole and betrayer in the world. He would rip out his heart and give it to her if she would just stop crying.

"Don't touch me, Robb." She brushed her teeth, ran the water, and raced out of the bathroom. "Leave me alone."

"No." He followed her. "I need to tell you -"

"Tell me what, Robb, exactly? That you had a half-naked woman on your lap with your cock out and at attention?"

He tried to take her in his arms but she shoved at him violently.

"Get _away_ from me. You make me sick. Literally."

Robb ignored her demand, grabbing her by her arms, pleading.

"You don't understand -"

She struggled free and slapped him. He felt the sting burning like hell fire.

"I understand you got it up for Ramsay's little bitch. Or, Theon's little whore." 

He struggled to reply when she slapped him again.

"I wonder, what would you have done if you saw me like that with Jon? Or Jaime Lannister? Would you be so receptive to anything I had to say?" She started crying again. "I suffered when you were with Marg. It was torture when you were with Jeyne. Now I have to tolerate Myranda? Do you not love me at all?"

"Yes!" He grabbed her again, pulling her to him, his lips in her hair. "I do love you, that is why -"

"Stop it, Robb! God, you're using me to rationalize this?"

"Would you just listen to me?"

"No!" She grappled at him, clawing his shirt. "No, I don't want to listen, and I don't want to think of what would have happened if I didn't come home when I did -"

"Sansa -"

"No. No more! I don't want to hear anymore. It doesn't matter. If it's not her it would be another one. There will always be one more. Maybe one day the right woman will come along and you will forget about your sick desire for your sister, forget the obsession that has led us both down a dark path we can never escape."

"Never, Sansa. _Never_." He pressed his lips into her hair. "You are my world. I would never-"

"Liar! You would! You've done it before!"

"Sansa, how long will you hold that against me? I've told you, Marg was high school, I was confused about us, trying to be a normal fucking high school kid, and Jeyne was me trying to let you have a normal life, and she served a better purpose than that as we well know, didn't she?"

"Stop, Robb -"

He moved to cup her face up to him with his hands. Her eyes were red-rimmed, and he noticed the dark circles underneath.

"I don't know what else I have to do to prove that I am yours. I've done enough, or so I thought. You've goaded me into being someone I never thought I'd be -"

He wasn't prepared for her to fling her arms around his neck, pulling him in for a fierce kiss; he tasted her minty toothpaste as her tongue flicked over his. He broke the kiss, frustrated.

"Damn you, woman. You throw shit at me, slap me, then kiss me. What is wrong with you?"

"Is that supposed to be rhetorical? Because, seriously, what could be wrong with a sister in love with her brother? What could be wrong with wanting you between my legs every night?"

He groaned, her words tempting him.

"Sansa, you need to know. Myranda wanted to - to sleep with me and in return she was going to keep our secret. She knows about us being lovers. Joff spied on us at a family picnic and he told Ramsay and Myranda. I wasn't going to fuck her, I swear that to you. I was figuring a way out of it."

She looked up at him, shocked at first, then comprehending. Worry and determination flashed in her eyes.

"Then we will deal with her. She should be easy to take care of."

"Sansa -"

"I mean it, Robb. Now more than ever we need any threats to our love removed. There is always a way. We just need to find it -"

He wanted to say something but her lips crashed into his and he gave in, picking her up and carrying her to her bed. They fell on it together, and it felt strange to be in her bed after she had moved in to his. But it was just a bed after all, and he matched her passionate kisses, forgetting that just minutes ago she was puking in horror in the bathroom and throwing things at his head. He wanted to be gentle, to take his time, but she whined against him, ripping his shirt off, helping him with his jeans and clawing at her own clothing, and he could not ignore the fire inside him, her words driving his lust and want.

"I'd get rid of her myself if I could. You're _mine_. Your lips -" she kissed him. "Your hair-" she threaded her fingers through his curls. "Your heart -" she clawed at his chest. "Your cock -" she reached down, smoothing her hand over his now exposed member. "All _mine_. No matter what. You belong to me, my love."

She spurred him on, matching his need. He breathed her in, sheathed himself deep inside of her, his thrusts meeting her own jerking hips. He welcomed her nails digging into his back as she came, her low-pitched moans music to his ears, his own groans of release filling the room as he bit and sucked her neck, bringing forth a shade of purplish-red there, marking her.

Breathless, drained, he moved to gather her in his arms but then leaned over to the side of the bed, retrieving her ring out of his jeans pocket, tossing the jeans back to the floor and turning to her. She was lying on her side facing hi, her face slack and satisfied.

"You dropped something," he whispered, reaching for her hand and sliding the ring back onto her slim finger.

"Threw something, you mean." She smiled sadly. "I'm so sorry, Robb."

"Don't be." He kissed her, gently, smoothing hair away from her face. They nestled into each other, touching foreheads.

"Sansa, I've been meaning to talk to you about the visit I had with Uncle Brynden a couple of weeks ago. There's something I need to talk to you about."

"What is it? Is something wrong?"

He started to speak when he heard the front door. Or, rather, he though that's what he thought he heard. Maybe it was something else? Sansa heard it, too, startled out of her post-orgasmic haze. They both sat up, and Robb leaned over to grab his clothes, slower than usual due to his post state as well. Before he could bring them up to him to throw in, he froze ad heard Sansa gasp.

Arya stood in the doorway.


	38. Resolutions

Arya stood in the doorway of her sister's bedroom, watching as Robb yanked on his clothes hurriedly and Sansa remained immobile, sitting up and clutching the sheets over her naked body, a shamed and horrified expression on her face. For a fleeting moment she was thankful she didn't come in during the sex act itself, even though it wouldn't be something she hadn't already witnessed before.

"Well, this is _cozy_."

For once in her life Arya really had no other words. She meant to stop by and confront Robb about leaving the family company She hadn't expected them to be fucking at four in the afternoon. She was grateful she hadn't brought Jon along. Knowing about the sibling incest was one thing; seeing it was entirely another and Arya knew that all too well.

She was tired. Mentally, physically, emotionally. Even since Christmas it has been one drama after another. The worst of it was Gendry, who had broken things off with her when she came home from Winterfell. He still believed she was responsible for Joffrey and Ramsay's death, and although she supposed her actions might lead him to think that, she resented him not trusting her word when she vehemently denied it. He said he couldn't stand the lies anymore, that's not what he wanted in a relationship. The confrontation had turned heated when she confessed to sleeping with Jon. She would never forget the hurt in his piercing blue eyes, and his resignation; the way he bowed his head and told her he knew it was only a matter of time before she found her way into Jon's bed.

Eight years gone in moments. Arya left their apartment for Winterfell and didn't look back. Where else was she to go? She would rather die than move back in with Robb and Sansa, even though she had no doubt Robb would have let her, the good brother that he was, even if it meant his other sister would be getting less loving for sure. Bran and Meera were too far away from her work. There was no way to procure an apartment for herself so quickly and she knew Gendry had nowhere else to go, so Winterfell it was. Jon seemed happy at her moving in, although when she informed him it was only temporary, his face fell.

With Ramsay and Joff dead, Arya's vigilante behavior died with them. The anger and rage and determination disappeared. Joff and Ramsay got what they deserved in the end, and she was certain one - of not both - of them was the murderer. Her hands were clean, aside from the torture of Joff. She rationalized her calmed demeanor was because of that, but deep down she knew that was not the major reason.

Jon was changing her. Living with him was making her softer, more empathetic towards just about everything and everyone, even Sansa and Robb. She was spending more time with him alone than she ever had before, and his brooding but thoughtful and caring personality was rubbing off on her. She guessed it was a good thing. He gave her insight on how maybe, if she could look past the incest, Robb and Sansa were in their own way helping each other to heal from all the trauma in their lives; specifically, how Sansa had suffered. Jon opened her eyes to see that maybe Robb and Sansa loving each other as they did was the only reason she wasn't dead or committed to a looney bin. So, with their conversations, Arya began to try understand somewhat of how Robb and Sansa could be together romantically.

The Robb pulls completely out of the company. Their family company.

To Arya, it seemed just another way to dig her claws into her brother and keep him enthralled and captive, to break him even further away from society and family. She just knew Sansa had to be behind this little stunt. 

Presently she looked at Robb, now dressed and walking over to her, deliberately shielding Sansa from her view. Even now, he was protecting her. She was intrigued that Robb didn't hold a look of shock or fear or guilt at her standing there. Instead he looked sad, running his fingers through his tousled mop.

"Arya -"

"Can it, Robb. I already knew. I'm not here about... _this_. If I start talking about... _this_ , I'll fucking lose it. I wanted to talk about your resignation."

"Can we take this downstairs?" His eyes looked defeated.

"Why? to protect our sister's delicate ears? Or to give her time to recover from her shame?"

"Arya, I am not looking for a fight. There's nothing to talk about. I felt it was time to leave the company, and it's in good hands."

"Fuck, Robb, you're not even thirty yet. What are you going to do the rest of your life? You have a long way to go. How can you just abandon the family company? Jon is upset. The stocks have dipped and the investors are nervous. What the _fuck_ was so wrong about you staying on?"

Robb glanced over at Sansa, who still refused to move out of bed. There was so much emotion in that look. It was too much for Arya.

"You fucking left because of her? Because she just can't let anything in your life be normal, can she?"

Robb shook his head, looking back down at her.

"I did it for the entire family's sake. Investors always get shaky with changes. It will be fine."

"Right." She peered around Robb to Sansa. "Are you in shock or something, sis?"

"Arya, don't antagonize your sister."

"She's fucking our brother and you are worried about me badgering her. Good one, Robb." She moved to reach Sansa but Robb grabbed her arm. "Get your hand off me, Robb."

Surprisingly he let go but his eyes shot a warning as she approached her sister who looked like a deer caught in the headlights. She didn't expect to feel a sense of pity for her and she hated herself for it. Sansa was always the more popular, more loved, more beautiful and talented sister. She was also the more fucked up one, though, and Arya realized it now. What she had gone through, the trauma she suffered, Arya could not imagine. Maybe Jon was right, maybe her being with Robb gave her some semblance of happiness. Now she herself knew what it was like to love someone who also happened to be blood related, even though cousins were still able to legally marry. But even though they were related, _they didn't come from the same sperm and the same womb_.

Looking at her sister's pale face with tears rimming her eyes, Arya hardened her heart.

"You know what, I don't even know what to say to you. It doesn't matter anyway, does it? You will just cower and hide behind Robb's skirts, like always. You will always have him to defend you and fight all your battles. I know you made him resign. I know you want him completely severed from the family in any way possible so you can have his cock inside you every night - and day, apparently."

Sansa managed a small shake of her head and her mouth trembled.

"Cat got your tongue, Princess? Or our brother's _cock_ , maybe?" The words fell out of her mouth before she could think, and she knew Robb was coming towards her, but then Sansa suddenly jumped from the bed, stark naked, and slapped her across the face with amazing force, making her stumble back.

Hand to her cheek, Arya stood, stunned, looking up in awe at her older, taller sister.

"Maybe I just choose not to say anything when you start with your usual shit. Maybe I don't want to waste my breath on pointless arguing, which you seem to do. I've had enough, enough of all this. _Grow up_ , Arya. We aren't children anymore. I'm tired of you constantly trying to belittle me or blame me for everything. Robb is his own man. It was his own decision. As it was his choice to keep loving me as he does." 

Sansa whipped around and knelt down to pick up her clothes, careless of her actions as her hair flowed forward to expose her back. Arya gasped, seeing the scarring for the first time. She was close enough to see the lettering scrawled on her back.

"Sansa." She was speechless, not knowing what to say, think, or feel.

Sansa finished dressing and turned back around, her eyes wide, not comprehending what just happened. Robb reached her and pulled her into his embrace, and Arya looked on as Sansa melted into him, nestling into his neck and peeking out at her. Robb's eyes were on her as well, and Arya thought they eerily looked more like twins with their luminous blue eyes and auburn hair, same good-looking features and pale skin. Two sides of the same coin. Arya suddenly felt uncomfortable, felt like an outsider, an unwanted stranger in front of her siblings. Arya knew, looking at them like this, that they would never give each other up. It would always be Robb and Sansa against everyone else. Always.

Deflated, worn, and numb, Arya threw the house key at their feet.

"Here. I won't be needing _this_ anymore. I'm _out_."

She turned and fled down the stairs, out the door and to her car. Neither Robb nor Sansa followed to stop her.

She was going back to Winterfell. To Jon. _To home_.

 

*************************

 

It was quiet when Arya finally arrived at Winterfell. The drive had given her some time to be alone with her thoughts. She felt old and tired. It would just be nice to crawl under some blankets, sip some hot chocolate, and try to erase her brain of just about everything that has happened over the past few months.

She found Jon in the library, sitting at her father's old desk. He had papers in front of him and an odd expression on his face. His sensual mouth was tight and his dark eyes were downcast. His hair was tied back in his deplorable man-bun style, but at least his hair wasn't hiding his handsome face.

"Jon?"

He looked up and smiled at her, shoving the papers underneath a small safety box as he rose and strode over to hug her, his strong arms reassuring.

"How was the visit, dare I ask?"

She breathed in his distinctive scent. He smelled the same from as far back as she could remember. It was comforting and familiar. He was home to her.

"Not as horrible as all that, but not good. You didn't miss anything except Robb and Sansa in bed. Oh, and Sansa actually stood up for herself." She felt him pull back a bit to look at her and touch her cheek. "Yeah, she hauled off and slapped me. I guess I've been totally deserving of the slaps lately."

He winced, cupping her face up, his dark grey eyes soft but intense.

"Arya, I will always be sorry for that until my dying day."

She looked into his dark eyes as always amazed at the depth of emotion he as so good at showing in them. She knew he loved her, had always loved her. They had not made love since the Christmas incident. He had been maintaining a cautious, cousinly affection with her. Hugs, fleeting kisses on the head or cheek, not daring more, and that was fine by her. For some reason she could reconcile the angry, frustrated escapism sex they had, but when she thought about the last time, when Jon carried her to his bed and they actually made love with mutual tenderness, she locked it away and refused to dwell on it. Part of her was ashamed, embarrassed even, that she let it happen.

"Hey, it's done." She forced a small smile, pushing him away. "I won't be going back there any time soon, though."

"I'm sorry, Arya."

"I'm sorry too, Jon," she sighed, flopping onto the couch near his desk. "I'm sorry for the way I've treated Sansa all these years. I'm sorry for how things ended with Gendry. And I'm sorry I've fucked up our relationship while trying to deal with the fact my siblings are fucking each other."

"You've not messed up our relationship. And Gendry decided to break things off with you because he thought you were a killer."

"And you don't?"

His eyes flashed pain and he swallowed hard enough for her to see his Adam's apple protrude.

"No, I don't."

She accepted that at face value. Jon was a simple and honest man, always saying what he meant. It was one of the many reasons she adored him. 

"Well, anyway, what's going on? You looked pretty intense when I walked in."

Without words, Jon rushed over to the couch, kneeling in front of her. She was startled by his sudden action and wasn't quite sure what was really going on until his warm hands wedged her legs apart. He snaked his body in between them, reaching up to pull her in for a kiss, feather-light and soft. It calmed her and panicked her at the same time and she pulled away to look at him. There was sadness in his eyes, and something like fear.

"I love you, Arya." Simple, open, honest Jon.

Her mind fought her body when he sought her lips again, then traveled gently to her cheek and down her neck. Soft kisses, cautious kisses. She could feel the restraint as his hands skimmed over her body, and when his fingers found the buttons on her blouse, they paused. He was waiting for a protest but she could not give him one, only mutely meet his eyes and nod. It was all the encouragement he needed and it took forever or maybe it was a split second for her to become completely naked on the couch. Naked in flesh and naked in emotion. She had to close her eyes as she felt his hot, wet lips traveling down her body, and gasped when she felt his tongue gliding over the apex between her legs, his hands reaching up to grab her hips to push her closer to his mouth.

Unabashedly, she scooted down, giving him his easier access, and he groaned into her, his licks gaining speed and pressure. _Oh gods, it felt good_. She couldn't help but squeeze her thighs against him and reach down to undo the tie to his man bun so she could grab onto his curls. Her reward was her clit being drawn in and sucked while his tongue massaged against it. She wanted to joke, make light of the pleasure he was giving her, try to pass this off as something that was casually happening, but she felt two gentle fingers sliding and curling inside of her and that was the end of that thought. She felt herself peaking already and she was mortified at her excitement even as she cried out, cumming hard against his fingers and mouth.

She could feel herself blushing as he gently rested his head on her thigh, his hair like silk against her skin, as he withdrew his fingers to explore her folds as if he didn't just have his mouth there, and through the sensitivity left over from her orgasm, she felt herself becoming aroused again.

"You feel and taste so _sweet_ , Arya." His voice was low, dreamy.

She couldn't believe how shy she was as she reached down to tug him up to her, hesitantly pulling on his shirt. He smiled down at her, his lips glistening with the sheen of her secretions on them, and she thought she would die as he quickly rid himself of his clothing. His chest was bare, smooth, and muscled, and when he stood to kick away his jeans, she saw him in all of his naked glory. He was, indeed, _glorious_.

As if in slow motion, he moved her position so that she was reclining on the couch and he eased on top of her, kissing her still so gently, and she licked the remnants of her off of his lips. She knew he meant to go slow but she bucked up into him, encouraging him as much as she could without words. He licked and sucked down her neck to her breasts, tenderly kissing each one, his tongue swirling her hardened nipples. She moaned at the sensation as his hands found her hips again, and she felt him enter her with ease. She wrapped her legs around him and he moved back up to her lips, his breath heavy as his mouth met hers again. When he moved she moved with him in a gentle rhythm. She felt friction against her clit from his strokes, his cock angled just right, his pelvis positioned above hers. She thought she would die from the pleasure of it all. _Jon. This was Jon_. Her arms wrapped around him, savoring him. She pulled away from his mouth.

"Jon. Jon, I - _I love you_." She dared to look at him and he was staring into her, smoldering, his mouth slightly open before moving into a smile.

"I love you too, Arya."

She felt herself peaking again, wanting to stop him to draw it out, but unable to resist and it crashed over her in gentle waves. She moaned his name, closing her eyes in reflex. His lips were at his throat as he spilled into her, groaning her name into her neck, and she relished the feel of him throbbing inside of her.

They laid still for a few moments, enough to compose their breathing again, and Jon lifted her up to sit her on his lap. She could feel his seed leaking out of her as he kissed her forehead, holding her tight.

"Do you regret this?"

She shook her head.

"I regret many things, Jon, but this isn't one of them."

He responded by kissing her, his tongue toying with hers.

"So, do you regret this?" She had to ask, still uncertain even now of how he felt.

"Never." He paused, looking up at her, his eyes sparkling. "It's been quite a journey, but I've found my home, Arya. You are my home."

"We are cousins -"

"Yes, cousins. Who can feasibly marry, who can feasibly have children. There is no shame in this. Only love."

She digested what he said for a moment, keenly aware of his arms around her naked back.

"Do you think there is shame in Robb and Sansa's relationship?"

Jon frowned but he leaned in to kiss her with passion before gently removing her to sit on the couch as he shakily gathered his clothes to dress again. She appreciated the view of his nicely shaped ass before it was encased in jeans as she reluctantly found her own clothing.

"I have no doubt Robb and Sansa love each other. However, I do think their love surpasses all sane reasoning. Granted, a brother and sister in a sexual love is hard enough to comprehend, but Robb and Sansa are not ordinary kind of people."

He walked over to the desk, picking up the papers he had shoved underneath the small box. He sighed, looking at Arya with eyes full of love.

"I love you, Arya. I want you to stay here with me, permanently. I want us to have a life together, whatever comes of it. It won't be easy, but I want this. I want _us_."

She glided over to him, her heart swelling. A new, more tender and loving Arya was emerging and she was aware of it; it was all due to Jon. She stood on her tiptoes to kiss him, savoring the moment.

"I want us too, Jon, whatever it brings."

He smiled and kissed her again.

"Good, then it's agreed. I was worried you would say no."

She said nothing so he handed her the papers.

"Since we settled our feelings for each other, I thought I would be honest about this as well." He paused as she looked at the papers, scanning them. She couldn't really comprehend it so she looked to Jon for help. He understood. "Arya, it's a copy of your parents' will."

She still looked at him. What of it? She was there when the will was read, so was Jon. They all were, although at thirteen she didn't quite understand most of it, except that Robb would be her guardian and she would receive a nice-sized trust fund.

"Arya, I found the second piece of paper earlier today. In an old lock box up in the closet in my room. It was a box of old papers, and there was a copy of an unofficial will. It was directly behind it. It's a rough draft, not a legal document. So, it isn't valid."

She looked down again, then back up at Jon.

"Well, what?"

He sighed, a worried look on his face.

"It's a _revision_ to the will, Arya. Robb isn't in it _at all_. Sansa isn't in it except to name her a ward of next of kin, Brynden Tully. All monies were to go to _you and Bran and me_."

Arya stared, and went numb.


	39. Revelations

_Thank whatever god that was out there that this day finally ended_.

Robb lay naked, completely drained, waiting on Sansa. She said she was hungry, which was amazing considering what all she ate for supper, but he left her to her late-night snack and flopped gratefully into his bed. 

Myranda, Arya, and Sansa's meltdown and all the drama he experienced today was enough to last him a lifetime.

After Arya left, Sansa cried in his arms, falling apart and clinging to him. She was terrified now that they had been found out by Arya, and was scared that the consequences were already set in motion. He assured her everything was fine, and if not he would find a way to make it right. In response she shoved him away and started in again how now he could end their relationship and find a woman he could be with without destroying his life.

All he wanted was a moment of peace. All he wanted was to take her in his arms and forget this day ever happened, and wake up to her in the morning and reassure himself that they would find a way. They always manage to do so, and today's events have not changed that. He already had a way set in motion; he just needed a few more days, maybe a week at most. They will always persevere because they always have.

Robb was trying to stay awake for Sansa but he felt the lull of sleep as his eyelids drooped.

He awoke to the sound of Sansa crawling up over him from the edge of the bed. It was a sensual, welcoming touch and he could feel himself getting hard as she pulled the blankets away to expose him. The cool air breathed over his body. He wasn't sure how long he had slept, but at this point he thought even a power nap was enough to rejuvenate him. At least enough to make love to the love of his life again.

"Sansa," he whispered, as his eye focused on her.

She was naked, her soft skin and flowing hair grazing him as she moved up, leaning into him. Her whole body pressed down and her lips snaked up to his ear, but when he tried to move his arm to hold her, she rebuffed him.

"No, my love...I am doing something a bit _different_ tonight," she breathed, flicking her tongue around his lobe. He turned to look at her, questioning, when he noticed the scarves in her hands. His blood quickened and his breathing deepened. His cock had a mind of its own and was already straining for her.

"Whatever you want to do, I am _yours_ ," he growled. "Although, I will be begging to touch you in no time."

She said nothing, a wicked smile forming.

Robb almost protested when she pulled one scarf out of her hand and folded it, leaning in to cover his eyes and tie it in place. The silk felt cool against his eyes; it was tight across the back of his head and he sighed at the loss of being able to feast his eyes on her beauty. His disappointment was tempered by excitement as he felt her slim fingers guiding his wrists to the slats in the headboard, binding them in silk and knotting them up securely.

It seemed his hearing increased tenfold. His whole body tensed in anticipation as she sat on him just below his erection, straddling him. He could feel the dampness from her wiping on his thighs. She was already as aroused as he was.

"Sansa -" It came out deep, lustful.

"Robb."

She leaned into him and he felt her lips against his. They met and matched a languid pace and he drank her mouth in while her hands gently roamed his bare chest, curling and circling into his chest hair, raising goosebumps wherever she went. When she pulled away, he sighed.

"You are so _handsome_ , Robb. Everyone sees you with your handsome face and your handsome body; they want to either be you or fuck you, but you are all mine. _Mine_. You've always been mine, even when you _fought_ it."

He swallowed, his chest tightening when he felt her nails scraping in his chest hair, over his nipples.

"Everyone loves you; the honorable Robb Stark. Rich, smart, self-sacrificing Robb Stark, taking care of his family, running a corporation, playing nurse to his emotionally unstable sister. There's nothing you would not do for me, is there?" Her tone was quiet, void of malice, but he sensed a bitterness behind her words.

"Sansa." He bucked up into her, the only way he could move, to try to reassure her, move her back down to him. He would have embraced her if he could. She dug her nails in deeper, bringing on a pleasant sting.

"The only Achilles heel in you: the unnatural love for your sister...and her unnatural love for you. Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if we were like all the other siblings in the world. But we _aren't_ like everyone else, are we?"

He wanted to reply, to comfort her, but he suddenly felt her hands leave his chest to skim down to encase his cock, and he couldn't speak. The restraints heightened even her touch.

"This -" she started stroking him -"is _mine_. It should have always been mine, not something you shared with Marg and Jeyne and Myranda, and god knows who else I don't know about. They got a taste of the pleasure you could give and all the while you denied me this. To think it took dancing with a Lannister and kissing Jon for you to finally fuck me."

Her body shifted down and he felt wetness surround the tip of his cock as her mouth eased onto him. He felt like he would cum in that instant as she worked him in a painfully slow rhythm, the wet, sucking sound filling the room and his ears. He wanted to touch her, pull her onto him, fill her up and make her cry out his name. His hands desperately tugged, the silk seemingly cutting into him.

"Sansa -" He all but whimpered when she puckered off of his cock.

"Be _quiet_ , Robb. I don't want to hear it. Just like I don't want to hear any excuses over Myranda."

Confusion set in as he felt a rustling of the blanket her hand moving around as if seeking something, and then her legs moved to tighten around him.

"My love, I can't have you leaving me, not now. _Especially_ not now. I need you now more than ever. You are my world. You are _mine_ , now and forever. The things we've said, the things we've done, all for our love... I _won't_ lose you to any other woman. I won't lose you for a fate that society dictates for us."

He felt it then, cold and sharp and searing on his chest, just above his right nipple. A cut; curving, short, light but painful. It felt like a letter. He inhaled sharply in shock.

"Hurts, doesn't it? I'm sorry for that, my love. I cannot be sure I know completely what I'm doing, or how deep I should go, but I promise I'll try to prevent the need for stitches. I don' t think you would care to explain it -"

His mind reeled as he felt a longer cut with two short ones... _and a wet sensation_. He knew he was bleeding. Moaning, he violently tugged at the scarves but didn't dare move his body, for fear he would bump her and she would accidentally stab him.

"Shhh, I told you, I want you _quiet_ , at least until I'm done," she went on, her voice a sweet melody on contrast to what she was doing. " _I love you_ , Robb, my love. I love you. Know that I love you -"

Robb felt her other hand pulling his chest hair back. Another curved motion...a short line with a shorter line across. He felt the trickle running down the side of his chest as she moved on, steady and slow, and he realized exactly what she was doing. His mind hummed with panic and fear and pain and love and insane lust, embracing this. He would always embrace his Sansa, his love. _Always_. She was marking him, as she was marked...they are marked for each other, _forever_.

_Branded for their sins, their trespasses, their guilt...their love_.

She moaned, moving her legs to straddle his right leg only and lifted up slightly, feeling her warm cunt against him. She was soaked now with arousal; as wet as his chest was with blood. She kept going. Kept cutting. Searing. He gritted his teeth, struggling for control and fighting the pain.

"Even your _blood_ is beautiful to me, brother. Tell me, did you think _my_ blood was beautiful? Did you want to _fuck_ me, when you cut into me, like I want to fuck _you_ right now?"

She continued to paint shallow cuts, using his chest as a canvas, every letter pronounced with pain and more blood. He could smell it, smell her, and it was terrifying and thrilling and he growled low, determined to stay still. The blood trickled down both sides of him now, slight and almost feather-like against his flesh. His chest was wet. He hardly noticed; he was still hard as a rock and his heart was beating at a deafening rate. He stopped struggling against the bars, losing himself in the twisted euphoria of it all. Of all they were. He felt the sheets being brought up to wipe gently at his chest, clearing his skin off for her to finish. The pressure stopped and the pain instantly dissipated, and he heard the clinking of the knife -or blade - or whatever she used - as it was thrown, hitting what he guessed was the dresser.

"Now you are truly mine. _All mine_. My handsome _Sisterfucker_."

Sansa's hands reached behind his head to hurriedly untie the scarf, freeing his sight. Before he could take anything in, her lips crashed into his and he matched her fierceness, their tongues madly seeking each other. She leaned down into his wounded chest, hands clutching him where she had cut and he couldn't help but cry out in a pained, strangled protest. She reared up then, moving to straddle him and impaling herself on his cock without warning or gentleness. He was able to truly look upon her then, in all her naked glory. There was a smeared, scattered imprint of blood over her breasts, in a pattern like fallen leaves over her hardened nipples and beyond. Her hands were stained with blood as she reached down to rest one of them on his chest, steadying herself. He felt the sting but he was inside of her now, it was all that mattered to him, to feel her warm and tight and wet. He locked eyes with her as she started gyrating, moving her other hand to her clit, the tips of her fingers massaging as she moaned. When she raised up he could see the blood from her palm smearing on her shaved mound. _His_ blood. Blood she shed. _Blood he would always willingly give_.

"Fuck -" He thought he was going to explode right then, and she must have felt the tightening because she stopped. It was more torturous than the cutting.

Sansa leaned over again, her hair tickling his face as she fumbled at his wrists to untie the knots. Robb felt the blood and feeling rushing back into his hands and as soon as his second bond was released he grabbed her, pulling her to him, crushing her into his chest painfully and then rolling her over, the warmth of blood between them, still deep inside of her. He struggled for restraint in the grip of madness and did not move. She looked up at him, meeting his gaze with lust and love and triumph, wrapping her legs tightly around his waist, locking in place.

"Sansa, _my Sansa_ ," he rasped. "I've done _everything_ for you. Whatever you've wanted, I've done. I've lied for you, cheated for you, killed for you. Given up all I ever was just to be with you. I would do it again and again as long as all roads led to you. Anything you want, I will give it to you, _whatever you want_ -"

"My love, I want you. I want us. We take life and give life and we are one. We are one forever. It's all I want. You are mine and I am yours, and _nothing_ will come between us." Her voice was molten in his ears, driving his obsession and love and lust.

She gasped as he thrust as deep as he could go, kissing her again, as her bloodied hands cupped his face. Her lips were his prayer, her body his sanctuary. She knew his sins, created them for him, she knew his crimes and he knew hers and they absolved each other. _Sansa_. She was all he knew, all he wanted to know.He felt the slickness of his chest against hers, her flesh soothing him. The sound of their bodies slapping against each other against the wet stickiness between their chests and between their legs, and their intermingling moans caressing his ears maddened him. Insane, they were insane, riding each other to the brink of their shared insanity and beyond. He reached down to her clit to spur her to a climax; she was slick against his fingers as the smell of her arousal and his blood assaulted his senses.

"Robb, Robb, Robb... I know, I know," she chanted as he quickened his thrusts to a furious pace, feeling her getting close to her release. "I love you, I love you, you're mine, you did _everything I wanted_ to be mine -"

"Always, Sansa, always. _Always, my love_ -"

He felt her pulses around him as she came hard, screaming his name into the stillness of the night and clawing his back mercilessly and he followed, moaning and grunting out her name, embracing the pleasure through his pain, biting frantically into her neck, drawing both blood and cries of affirmation from the woman he killed for to possess completely.

Robb dropped to the mattress, pulling her against him, still inside of her. They lay on their sides facing each other, spent, his blood coating them both. She reached her hand down over his chest, wiping some more of the blood onto her already coated fingertips, bringing them to her mouth to lick while they stared into each others' eyes, reflecting into each other their love and madness.

Without words, he crushed his lips to hers, tasting rust.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to sansafeels! This is her creation, photos from her GIF set on Tumblr.  
> [](http://imgur.com/AhNM041)  
> [](http://imgur.com/ZwUot7Q)  
> [](http://imgur.com/3whEPWs)  
> [](http://imgur.com/y7MAP62)


	40. Epilogue

Olenna Tyrell lounged in her beach chair, well protected from the rays thanks to her umbrella, straw hat, movie-star glasses, 100 SPF sunscreen, and a beach blanket. Her hands were too shaky to hold her drink for too long, so she quickly tossed out the annoying umbrella and took a long swig. Nothing like an adult beverage to enjoy a hazy afternoon.

She knew she was dying. Perhaps not today or tomorrow but it was there on the horizon. Loras always told her she was too stubborn and proud to die, but what did her grandson know about death? All he knew was how to keep his husband Renly warm at night. Well, he was a dear anyway. She lived and loved enough for a full life, so she was not concerned. The last thing she wanted to do before she took a dirt nap was to tour the world, see places she hadn't been or wouldn't think to go to. Usually she had company, as if they were afraid she would die alone on a trip. Maybe she would, and why should she care? She wasn't the one who would have to handle arrangements to bring her body back.

This time it was Loras and Renly, along with Margaery's twin boys, that tagged along with her. Olenna was not happy when Marg married Tommen Lannister, but as far as the Lannisters went, he was a sweet young man and always eager to please her granddaughter. Their boys were six now, and quite a handful, but Loras and Renly handled them amazingly well.

Reaching down for her favorite trashy paperback novel, she smiled. It was a completely ridiculous story about a dark and brooding Lord in a dark and brooding castle who finds some feisty heroine, falls in love with her, and makes her queen of his castle. Come to think of it, it reminded her a little of Jon Targaryen and his wife Arya. That was an odd union and drew a few whispers. Not only did they grow up as close as siblings, they were first cousins, but it was legal, and who really cared? She thought people would be more concerned over two of the other Starks vanishing without a trace for what, a decade now? They had been declared legally dead at this point. So much death and tragedy and strangeness in that family. It was nice to see at least some happiness in that family tree; Bran and Arya at least seemed to have some luck in the happily ever after department.

She lost interest in the book. Of course her mind wandered; it always did nowadays. It was hard to stay focused anyway with all the young hot beefcakes running around in scant swimming trunks. She may be old but she wasn't dead...yet.

A bright red and blue beach ball floated her way, stopping at her feet. She looked in the direction it came and spotted a boy surely no more than nine or ten, she guessed. He approached her cautiously.

"Hi ma'am, may I please get the ball?"

She peered over her glasses at him. Such a cute boy, sporting a mess of auburn waves and bright blue eyes squinting at her, a smile of politeness on his face. The color of his swimming trunks matched his eyes.

"Sure you can, child."

The boy walked closer, digging his feet deep into the sand with every step. He huffed his chest out, and grabbed the ball.

"I'm not a child. I'm nine years old," he bragged.

"Oh, is that so? Well, my apologies then, little man."

The handsome little kid grinned fully then. Olenna was suddenly struck with Deja Vu. _Decades ago, a pool party, a kid looked just like this one, grinning and laughing as he played with his lookalike sister_...Olenna shook her head. Memories were always jumbled with the present time nowadays. 

"Do you have a name, little man?"

"Well, my mom and dad said I can't share my name with strangers. But you are a nice old lady and they also tell me to be nice to older ladies. My name is Brandon Stone."

" What a lovely name. Well Sir Brandon, are you here all alone? A man all of nine shouldn't be by himself."

The boy laughed. _It was a familiar laugh_. 

"No ma'am. Mom and Dad are over there." He pointed in the direction of a couple sitting close to each other under an umbrella. Their backs were turned. Olenna observed that the man, even though obviously ripped and nicely built, wore a t-shirt and the woman, with a lovely figure Olenna could match back when she was in her twenties, wore a bathing suit cover. In this oppressive heat? They were fit as fiddles underneath. Well, maybe there was some modesty left in this world, even though looking around the beach she saw none. The man had light brown hair and the woman's long blonde locks flowed down her back. Strange they would have a red-headed child. They leaned into each other, laughing and kissing. A happy couple, obviously, not afraid to show such cute affection. Such a rare thing nowadays.

"They look like lovely parents, my dear."

"They are the best ever." The boy beamed with pride. "Their names are Alayne and Richard. They have lovely names, too, don't they?"

"Yes, they do, Brandon. You best get along to them, and remember not to talk to strangers. Not even old ladies like me."

The boy ran off to his parents and she watched him go, an image of a boy laughing and chasing after his red-haired sister with a water balloon flashing in her head.

Olenna sighed and rummaged around for another book. She pulled it out and settled in to start reading. This one was about secret lovers on the lam after committing a crime. It always intrigued her, and somehow it seemed more appropriate for her to read.

_The End_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Repost complete! I hope those that wanted it back enjoyed... and the new readers as well. Thank you!! :)

**Author's Note:**

> Reposted as requested. :)  
> Find me on Tumblr: SoHereWeAre1


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